Echoes of the Past
by Sam Worth
Summary: After the failed 20 July plot an ordinary major turned into one of the most wanted Germans and into Hogan's latest mission, all the while preparations for Remembrance Day were underway. Meanwhile, Klink has his own secret that could lead to their both downfall. Written for the 100th anniversary of Armistice Day. Inspired by Abracadebra's challenge. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N Last chance to post this in response to the 100th anniversary challenge, if not on the right date, at least in the right year. There are 12 chapters in all, posted at once._

 _ **Warnings:** implied reference to the Holocaust/Shoah_

* * *

 **Echoes of the Past**

* * *

 _The following story is fictional and does not depict any actual person or event, except the recognized surrounding historical facts. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, and buildings is intended or should be inferred._

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

* * *

 _November 1, 1944_

Hogan jumped down the last step and hurried to the radio. "What's up? Did Newkirk and LeBeau run into any trouble?"

Kinch shock his head while he continued to write down what he heard from the Morse telegraph. "It's an emergency from the Underground," he reported and glanced to Hogan. The way his fingers clenched the pencil it had to be a real danger.

"What kind of emergency?" Hogan circled around the table and leaned against the top of the table, opposite of Kinch. "I'm out of paper or the gestapo is standing in front of my door?" he joked without humor in his voice.

"The second," Kinch answered, still writing. "Apparently, the gestapo thinks that they have hidden one of the conspirators of the failed coup d'état."

"You mean the 20 July plot?" Hogan straightened. That was something new.

"Yes."

"There's still somebody alive?" The air in the tunnel breezed coldly and Hogan shivered. "The way they went about shooting and executing I didn't think that anybody who ever polished the shoes of one of the attackers was still free."

Grimacing, Kinch straightened. "But there's a snag in it."

"Besides our boys in black?" Drumming his finger against the wooden top of the table, Hogan had anticipated trouble, or the Underground wouldn't have raised an emergency.

"The call for help is from a new and unknown member of the Underground." He looked up to the colonel. "I can't verify the source and there's nobody willing to vouch for him."

Hogan pushed himself away, biting his lips. He shook his head. "Then tell them no."

"And if it's true?" Kinch hesitated, his finger hovering over his telegraph key, ready to message an answer.

"Everybody who participated in the plot knew what he was doing. They tried - a little too late if you ask me but at least they tried. But it failed, and we all know what happens if we fail." Hogan crossed his arms. "There was enough blood shed, we don't need to add ours."

Kinch nodded and started to type. Hogan prowled from left to right and back again like a tiger in a cage. The cage thing was partly true, but he wasn't a tiger.

"Message is out," Kinch reported.

"Good." Hogan turned away. It was never easy to refuse help but a necessary part of his job description. Behind him the telltale clicking of the Morse telegraph started its rhythm. Sighing again, he turned back and waited for Kinch to translate.

"And?" He prompted after Kinch had stopped writing.

"Snow White is willing to vouch for the integrity of the message." He stared at his scratchpad. Raising his head, Kinch met Hogan's glare. "He says one of the conspirators is sitting right now with him. He confirms his identity."

"Great." Hogan threw his hands in the air. "So now, if we don't help out, we're going to lose Snow White?"

Kinch grimaced and nodded. "Snow White knows a lot about our operation here."

Hogan growled in frustration. He pressed his lips together. "I know." Thinking fast, Hogan took the first idea that came to mind. "Fine, tell Snow White to send the man in our direction into the woods. Alone and with an identifying sign that we'll recognize. He should know us good enough to choose one."

Kinch started to type his response while Hogan took back up his pacing.

After receiving a short acknowledgment, silence descended on the radio room. Only the humming of the engine for the telegraph provided a comforting background noise. Kinch kept shooting questioning glares to Hogan, who refused to answer them. Finally, voices drifted over from the emergency entrance. Hogan threw Kinch a quick look and waited for LeBeau and Newkirk to reach the radio room.

"Mission accomplished," Newkirk said and put down a heavy sack. LeBeau followed him with a box. They wore all black and had even darkened their faces.

"Oui," LeBeau put down his heavy box. "I hope my épices survived the harsh treatment. Can't we get another form for a supply drop?" He opened the box and pulled out a little pouch and pressed it against his chest.

Hogan shook his head. "Sorry fellas, but you need to go out again." He pushed the items from their weekly supply drop with his foot in the nearest corner.

"What?" Newkirk watched his sack disappearing before he glared at the colonel.

"We expect a new guest and you are dressed for the occasion to bring him in."

"But what about my spices. I need -" LeBeau protested.

"I'll take care of your spices. You need to be careful. Either he is a gestapo agent or he has the gestapo agents on his heels." Hogan raised his hand to still the protests. "I don't like it any better, but we can't risk Snow White."

"Great." Newkirk's face darkened. "And what if he is an agent and brings the whole gestapo with him?"

Of course, Newkirk had to pick up the worst possibility. Hogan sighed and forced himself to smirk. "How fast can you run?"

Despite their protests, Newkirk and LeBeau turned around to follow Hogan's order. "Do we know him or her?"

Kinch stood up and handed them both a gun. "Snow White is supposed to give him, a man, a signal for us. We didn't want to use the radio to arrange a code word."

Acknowledging the need for the gun, Newkirk sighed while LeBeau grabbed the gun without hesitation.

"Be careful," Hogan admonished, "and only bring him in, if you think he's legitimate."

"Now we shall decide?" Newkirk groused but his smirk betrayed the pride he felt to be trusted with such an order.

"Yes," Hogan would have preferred to go out himself, but there was no time for this and no way to cover for his absence on short notice. "Don't worry, if you're wrong, I'm sure we'll see each other again in front of a firing squad."

LeBeau grumbled something in French while he climbed up the ladder.

"Great." Newkirk raised his arm to wave farewell. "Now I feel really appreciated," he grouched.

Then both went out and the trap door closed, leaving cold wet November air circling around the tunnels.

* * *

"How long have they been gone?" Hogan paced. His long stride cast shadows at the walls, dipping the tunnel in a show of flickering lights and shadows.

"Roughly two hours," Kinch reported without consulting a watch. He had already checked often enough in the last few minutes. "Carter also hasn't seen anything yet."

Carter was keeping an eye on things upstairs and ready to warn them if a guard was coming.

"They should have been back by now," Hogan stated. Slowing down, he came to a halt behind Kinch and crossed his arms.

"They are only careful," Kinch said. He hadn't paced like Hogan but his tense shoulder muscles enshrouded him with an air of frustrated strength. "LeBeau and Newkirk know these woods better than anyone else. They take the long way but it's going to be alright."

Hogan stopped in front of the supply drop. They had ordered new material from London, paper, blank passports, fabrics and pens. Funnily enough they could steal their bullets and guns from the German but needed London for normal things.

Inspecting the contents, Hogan grabbed LeBeau's pouch and opened it to smell again the sweet smell of home. He closed his eyes and used his nose, but couldn't smell anything. Irritated, he looked inside the pouch. "What's that?"

"Sir?"

Hogan went to the table and dumped the content. Red poppies and blue flowers plumped down on the surface. "Kinch, did we order flowers?"

"Flowers?" Kinch looked up from his scratchpad. As he saw what Hogan had discovered, he sighed. "It's for Remembrance Day."

"I know the red poppy and it's origin." Hogan crossed his arm. "If you want, I can even recite In Flanders Fields, but I asked if we ordered it."

Kinch tilted his head and stroke across his chin. "You didn't order it."

Hogan breathed in through his clenched teeth. Kinch's carefully chosen words told a story, Hogan would have preferred to avoid. "We are in a German POW camp. We can't start wearing Remembrance Poppies and blue flowers-"

" _Bleuet de France_ , they're called _Bleuet de France_ ," Kinch explained while only looking at Hogan out of the corner of his eyes.

"- without raising a lot of question and risking far too much," Hogan continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Germany lost the war and I don't think that they want to be reminded. We'll remember but quietly and without drawing too much attention, okay?" He put the flowers back into the pouch.

"Yes, sir." Kinch looked back down. Beside the message, little flowers he had drawn now decorated his scratchpad.

"We have a war to fight, we can't -" Hogan stopped himself as he felt a new gust of cold air breezing through the tunnel, signaling an arrival in the tunnel. "They're back."

Causally, he slipped to the ladder.

Newkirk jumped down, followed by a new man in dirty and disheveled civilian clothes. LeBeau brought up the rear and closed the hatch.

"Went without a hitch." Newkirk grinned and clapped his hands together. "We ought to do this more often."

LeBeau shared the grin. "We were careful. Nobody followed us."

Hogan nodded and turned to their guest. "Colonel Robert E. Hogan, United States Army Air Forces. And you are?"

The man leaned against the dirty wall and rubbed across his face with a shaking hand. He looked tired with an exhausted expression in his body language. Under his arm, he carried a _Pickelhelm._ Snow White had humor. "Major Claus von Hofer, former adjutant of -"

Hogan took a sharp breath. "I know. I thought the gestapo got all the conspirators."

Von Hofer huffed a dry laugh. "I assumed as much, and yet here I am. I wouldn't have thought that I could still be alive months after our failure." He straightened. "What day is it?"

"First of November," Hogan said and beckoned him with an inviting hand gesture to follow him into the main room. He offered the major a place to sit down. "Can you prove that you're a real member of Operation Valkyrie and not just a spy?"

"Colonel, I could go upstairs into your little POW camp and tell the commandant that you have tunnels down here. They wouldn't listen to a word, too busy trying to assemble a firing squad. I couldn't save my life if I gave you up. It doesn't matter whether you believe me or not."

Newkirk and LeBeau went further down the tunnel to change back into their uniforms.

"Kinch?" Hogan drew his radio operator away from noisy ears. "Get on the radio and verify this with London. And don't leave him alone down here. You can use our guys in the cooler or the infirmary." Hogan ordered in a whisper. "If you need more men just say it and I'll arrange something."

Kinch nodded. "We have Anderson and Baker and -" he paused as he saw his guest with his head rolled back against the wall and closed eyes. Kinch tilted his head and blinked in surprise. "He's sleeping."

Having seen the same thing, Hogan just shrugged. "I guess running away from the gestapo is tiring." Hogan yawned. "Speaking of being tired, I'll be upstairs getting some shut-eye before I have to entertain Colonel Klink, tomorrow again."

Kinch snorted. "I'll give London the news."

"Good." He grabbed the flowers with the pouch and went to the ladder. "If he wakes up and has the urge to tell us something interesting, tell him to write it down."

* * *

The Hauserhof brimmed with life and people. The music boomed and couples danced on the dance floor as if there was no tomorrow. As Klink tried to find one man without uniform, he realized that for some of them there really was no tomorrow.

Nervously, he wrung his hands again while he was waiting.

"Colonel Klink, what a pleasure to meet you."

Klink pivoted around almost falling over his own feet. A woman in her forties with long blond hair stood behind him. Her dark blue dress stood out in this environment. "Rosa Gold, the pleasure is most assuredly mine." He held out his hands and she took them gracefully.

"I wasn't sure if you would come."

"Of course, I can't turn down an invitation of an old friend." He looked behind her. "Where's Jacob?"

A dark shadow crossed her face and Klink noticed the deep lines in her still beautiful face. "Can we take a walk?"

"A walk? I thought we would sit down and drink a glass or two and talk about the old times."

She tried to keep smiling but desperation clouded her eyes. "Please?"

Unable to say no, Klink grabbed his coat. "Of course. A walk is fine. We just need to get back before any bombers come." He giggled nervously. Then he held out her coat and helped her to slip in.

Outside it was almost pitch-black with only the moonlight providing some light. They walked a few feet in total silence and then stopped.

"Wilhelm," she hesitated, "am I allowed to still call you Wilhelm?"

"Of course, of course! What is going on? I thought we were going to celebrate thirty years since our first battle together." Klink rubbed his hands together as he remembered the thrill from back then.

A small sob left her mouth before Rosa stilled herself with a hand pressed over her mouth. After a deep calm breath, she said, "I need your help."

"What? What is going on? I don't -"

"They came for him."

In the darkness he couldn't really see her face, but he could hear her desperation. "Who?"

"The SS. I had hoped that our marriage would protect him but," she sobbed again, "they took him and I don't know where they have brought him. I asked everybody I could think of. I went to the police station every day until they told me if I came back they would arrest me too. But you - you are his friend and you know what he did for Germany, yes? Can you ... " She trailed off.

Klink shivered in the cold night. But it wasn't the temperature that felt cold but the fear in his stomach. He swallowed hard but couldn't find the courage to say something.

"Wilhelm, please, tell me, are you still his friend? Or do you regret having fought with him in the last war?"

"No! I don't know anybody as brave as Jacob. I - He saved my life and -" Klink aborted his stumbling attempts to explain himself.

"You know that he isn't in the best health. He gets sick fast and the rumor about these camps - Wilhelm, I'm worried sick. I can't sleep or eat. I fear for his life." She grabbed the chapel of his coat. "I beg you, please, try to find him."

"I'll see what I can do." He trembled and carefully pushed her away. "But why did they come after him? He is a hero of the war - he -"

"You know why." A shiver went through her. "It's the star he has to wear."

"You're trembling," Klink said. He didn't want to think about the yellow star. "Let's go back in and eat something. I'll make some calls and I'm sure that it is all just a big misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding, of course," she murmured but followed Klink willingly back into the warmth.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N To answer Abracadebra's question about the timeline - yes, it is possible._

 _By 1944 (and far earlier) no Jewish citizen was 'free' in the normal meaning - there were house or ghettos where they had to live, they were usually forced to work in factories without pay and most of their day-to-day life was heavily restricted but not everybody had already received a deportation order (to a concentration camp). Most of the surviving German Jews survived in/through a mixed marriage._

 _Depending on:  
\- kids (in mixed marriages),  
\- status of religion/integration (practicing or not, converted, 'integrated' or whatever they meant by it depended on the interpretation of the official more or less) and  
\- what article of the Nuremberg Laws was used (based on how many of your grandparents were Jews there were several degrees how "Jewish" you could be and therefore different consequences) and  
\- last but not least where you lived  
a deportation order/arrest could come late._

 _Cities like Hamburg, Nuremberg and others were rigorous in their adherence and enforcement of the Nuremberg Laws, others were much slower._

 _Another finding that supported this timeline was for example the well-known protest of the Rosenstrasse in 1943 (there's a Wikipedia entry if you're interested). Historians found out that the gestapo had orders to not deport intermarried Jews then: " … suggests that regardless of the protests, the deportation of mixed-marriage partners had never been part of the plan. The arrests of Mischlinge ["half-Jews"] and Jews living in mixed marriages had been undertaken for a purpose other than deportation: registration."_

 _That was 1943. So, combining Rosa's love, their son and his status as a war hero, it's not unrealistic for him to get deported so late in war. He may had had even a chance to not get deported at all. The oppression in day-to-day life was bad enough. It could kill as easily (restrictions in medical help, food and firewood, and so on ...)._

 _Sorry, for the lengthy explanation. I hope it explains the timeline._

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

 _November 3, 1944_

Hogan looked into their guest room and checked on their guest. In fact, it was their prisoner but trying to explain how he, a prisoner of war, could keep a prisoner hurt his head, and he simply called him a guest.

"What does London say?" He asked the room in general but looked at Kinch. Newkirk was busy forging some papers, while Carter was milling around, coming nearer from his work station curious to hear about the newest developments.

Kinch looked up from where he was repairing one of their spare radios. He put down his tools and went to his table to grab his scratchpad. "They can verify that there was a Major Claus von Hofer, but they can't verify anything else. We lost almost all of our spies in the cleanup." He glanced to his notes as if he needed to read it again.

Hogan crossed his arms. "I figured as much. So what is the rest of the message. You wrote much more."

"They need him as soon as possible." Kinch sighed.

"Need?"

Snorting, Kinch put down his scratchpad and leaned back against a strut. "If you want it technical - we were ordered to send him to London right away without any delay."

"They do know that we're talking about one of the most wanted German?" Newkirk drawled and put his elbow on the table. "As long as he wears his face he won't get through one single checkpoint no matter what I write in his papers."

Hogan nodded while LeBeau slipped back in. Carter drew nearer. "But if they want him, we need to send him over."

"Can you reach the sub?"

"They'll be back in range in twenty-four to forty-eight hours," Kinch reported. "But Newkirk's right. He won't be able to use the normal route."

Out of the corner of his eyes, Hogan saw LeBeau checking the room. He tried to be inconspicuous but failed. "How soon is soon for London?" He asked still distracted by LeBeau's movements.

"Like I said, they want him right away as long as any information he can give is worth something." Kinch crossed his arms.

"But months have already passed and everything has changed," Newkirk said, leaning back to stretch his shoulder after carefully imitating another man's signature for hours on end.

"Big attacks need big planning and this takes time." Hogan zipped up his jacket, the coldness of the nearing winter already creeping through the tunnel. "He could have knowledge of something big."

"Then he needs to tell us, and we tell it London."

"Carter, if we send it to London and somebody is listening, our information is useless," Hogan explained. LeBeau had finished his circle around the room and came to a halt next to Newkirk. "Not to mention that we can't verify what he tells us."

"Then they need to drop off one of their interrogators," Newkirk proposed. "They can check him out here and then go back and it isn't our neck out there." He held up the paper to check if the ink had already dried.

"Boy, does this mean we are going to keep him here til the war's over? We can't keep a prisoner for that long." Carter put his hands into his pockets. "We are prisoners ourselves!"

"Not so fast," Hogan stopped their fast planning, "Kinch ask London about sending us their investigator and -" Out of the corner of his eyes, Hogan saw LeBeau again checking the room, while Kinch put on his headphones and started to type. "LeBeau if you're looking for your pouch and your flowers, I have confiscated them."

LeBeau and Newkirk froze with an identical guilty look. Kinch adopted his patented 'nothing-can-faze-me' glare. Only Carter looked around confused. "I'm not sure what part of the order 'you can't use our small resources to build some poppies' actually lead to the conclusion that you add it to our shopping list from London, but it was a bad idea." Hogan fixed LeBeau and Newkirk with a glare.

Newkirk pushed away from the table with a quick smile that didn't lessen his challenging glare. "It didn't drain our resources, govern'or, and London understood why we need it."

"I also can understand." Hogan glanced around the room and noted varying degrees of understanding on their faces. "But if I need to make it an order, I will - nobody is going to wear any flowers on Armistice Day, are we clear? Especially not if we hide one of the men of the coup d'etat." He looked across his men and fixed every one with a hard stare.

At first nobody answered and a heavy silence settled across the room. Then, finally, one by one nodded or at least acknowledged his order. He waited until he had received a reaction from everyone. "Good, now let's get back to the business at hand. Kinch?"

Kinch took off his headphones and checked his notes again. "London says they have nobody free to come over. We need to send him."

Hogan snorted. "Did they also happen to tell us how to do that?"

"No." Kinch smirked. "To quote: 'you fellows over there will think of something like always'."

Throwing up his hands, Hogan started to pace the room. "Ideas?"

Carter shrugged. "If I didn't know how to come from A to B I always asked somebody for help."

"And just who do you want to ask, Carter? The Germans?" All of his frustration about the latest orders made Newkirk sound even more bitter than usual.

"Good idea. We're going to ask our residential travel guide." Hogan clapped his hands together. With a plan in his mind, he turned to the ladder.

"Who?"

"Colonel Klink, who else?" He threw over his shoulder and climbed up, back to the daylight.

* * *

Hogan peeked around the door into Klink's office. Only Helga was working at her desk. He smiled and watched her for a moment before she felt his gaze and looked up.

"Colonel Hogan." A smile lit up her face. "With what do I deserve this honor?" She stood up and filed some paper into the filing cabinet.

"Oh, just the usual." Hogan stepped up behind her and kissed her on her neck. "I need to speak to the commandant."

"He is busy," she said and giggled at his tactics. "He is busy making some calls and is not to interrupted." Twisting, she freed herself and turned to face Hogan.

"I'm sure that he is happy to see me," he assured her and tried to pull her closer again. "In a while."

"Colonel Hogan, this time he really means it." Helga dodged his advances and returned to her desk. "He even checked if somebody is listening. Twice." She held up two fingers to highlight her point.

Hogan made a face. "What calls does he have to do?"

"I do not know."

"Did you arrange any connection for him?" He leaned against her desk, his good mood gone. If Klink was trying to be secretive, it usually ended with the gestapo sniffing around the camp and complicating his life.

"No, he has even forbidden me to touch the phone."

Without thinking much about a plan, Hogan sat on the desk and took Helga's hand in his. "You look tired and you work too much. I think you need to take a break," he smirked, "and I need to talk to the commandant. So we both win."

Helga rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. "It has to be important if you want me out of here."

"I'd never want you gone. I just would hate to see you hurt in case the commandant really explodes."

She grinned. "Colonel Hogan," she said and stood up, "I really should stop doing as you say."

"Please don't," he joked. "You're my only light in this drab camp."

"Now you're just lying but I'll take a break." She grabbed her coat and Hogan helped her into it. "Is half an hour long enough?"

Hogan screwed up his face and did a quick calculation. "Take an hour to let the smoke clear," he advised.

Watching her walking outside kept his thoughts well entertained until she rounded the next corner and vanished from his view. Like a boxer, he moved his shoulder to loosen his tense muscles. He only sparred with words, but it was a fight regardless. With a deep breath, he knocked and opened the door at the same time. "Colonel Klink!"

Startled, Klink jumped up and threw down the receiver as if it had burnt his hand. He stared at Hogan with wide open eyes. "Hogan!" He screeched.

"I didn't want to frighten you," Hogan said and had to hide the smile threatening to appear on his face. Klink was white as a sheet and shaking.

"You!" Klink breathed hard. Then he raised his fist. "Out! I don't want to be interrupted."

Hogan's smile froze. Beneath Klink's annoyance and startled fright something different lurked. But there was no other way but forward. "I can come back later," he said and took a step back. "If I'm still here by then."

"Yes, yes, go away." Klink shooed him away. "I'm busy."

Slowly, Hogan closed the door while he counted to ten in his head. He had reached five when Klink screamed through the closed door. "Hogan!"

Hogan pushed open the door and peeked into the office. "Colonel Klink, what can I do for you?"

"What can you do for me? You were the one that -" He stopped himself with hanging shoulders and sat down behind his desk. "What do you want, Hogan?"

Slouching into the office, Hogan took his time to sit down in front of Klink's desk. "I just wanted to know when the next festive activities happen around here?"

Klink narrowed his eyes and raised his chin. "Aha! You want to escape!"

Hogan narrowed his eyes. The words were right but the sound of his voice and his expression didn't match the usual self-righteous uproar. But without any other clues, Hogan continued on his path. "Exact the opposite. I don't want to ruin your party. See, after all we are kind of used to each other, and I wanted to have in mind your busy schedule before I agreed to the new plan of our escape committee."

"There is no escape from Stalag XIII!" Klink moved his chair back and stood up raising his fist in anger.

"But we'd like to try." Hogan leaned back and crossed his legs. "Come on, commandant, we have at least to try once a year and the year is closing in, and we haven't had enough attempts yet."

"Hogan! We don't have any festivals in this camp. I am a commandant twenty-four seven without any break or vacation." Klink stomped with his feet in rhythm to his words.

"Fine. I just wanted to be considerate of your position."

Klink sank down in his chair, his shoulder dropping. "Considerate. I don't care if you try to escape on Christmas Eve or St. Martin's Day, you won't succeed."

Not daring to push further, Hogan took the exhausted atmosphere as a signal, climbed to his feet, offered a smart salute and left the room. Klink had acted like never before and it worried Hogan.

* * *

 _November 4, 1944_

"Herr Kommandant." Corporal Langenscheidt saluted. "General Burkhalter is at the front gate," he reported.

Startled, Klink jumped up and rushed to the door. Langenscheidt stepped back to avoid being hit. Not bothering with a coat, Klink went out to greet him. "General Burkhalter, what a pleasure," he said. The word pleasure left a bitter taste on his tongue. The general looked at him as if he wanted to wring his neck with his bare hands.

"In your office," Burkhalter ordered without returning the greeting. This wasn't anything new but unpleasant nonetheless.

"Of course, after you." Klink swallowed hard. The weather was already cold and if he looked to the sky he could almost see the snow. Forbidden thoughts about the Russian front entered his mind. Shaking his head to shake off these thoughts, he hurried after the general. He had just entered the office as the general slammed the door shut.

Klink jerked. To hide his reaction, he grabbed the cigar box and offered it to Burkhalter. "What can I do for you, Herr General?"

Burkhalter paced across the room, not even acknowledging the offered cigars. "It has come to my attention," he spoke slowly and articulated every word, "that you are making inquiries."

Shaking, Klink put down the cigar box. "Inquiry sound so official, I-"

"Klink, just answer the question!" Burkhalter stepped up and into Klink's personal space. His body used as a powerful threat. "Did you or did you not try to locate a man called Jacob Gold?"

Never mind Russian, Klink was sure he was seconds away from a firing squad. He tried to smile. "He is an old comrade from the last war and I wanted to reconnect."

Burkhalter pulled off his gloves, finger for finger. "I know."

"You see, Herr General, his wife came to me and told me that the gestapo had taken him and I can't think of any reason because Jacob is one of the most loyal Germans I know. The way he fought back then - I was truly impressed. He completely and utterly deserved every one of the decoration he received. Once he -"

"I know," Burkhalter repeated. He sat down and breathed out. Suddenly he seemed older and weary. "I was there too. I have heard about his kills and about his skills."

Klink's shoulder sagged a little. "It only can be a big misunderstanding. I'm sure that-"

"It's not a misunderstanding," Burkhalter whispered and gave Klink a chilling stare out of the corner of his eyes, "and you won't ask again."

"- that he is ..." Klink trailed off. He stalked behind his desk and didn't know what he should say.

Burkhalter looked to the window and sighed. "The order comes from Berlin. It is not a misunderstanding."

"But -" Klink opened his mouth. "He - " Words failed him. "He is a hero of the war - he has flown countless mission and has almost as many kills as the Blue Baron. He -"

"I repeat," Burkhalter heaved his heavy form out of the chair. "Do not ask any questions."

Klink was trembling, but he couldn't let this go. "Why?" he dared to ask.

"Do not try further to locate Jacob Gold, do you understand me? If his service in the last war wasn't enough to protect him now and our service in this war won't be enough." Abruptly, Burkhalter turned to the door and opened it. "Consider this a friendly warning."

He left without noticing that Klink had remained behind his desk, never acknowledging his departure, never even saluting. He removed his monocle and rubbed across his eyes in despair.

 _A/N Edited to remove an old reference. It's Jacob Gold._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 _November 6, 1944_

"Corporal Langenscheidt?" LeBeau hurried after the German soldier and fell in step beside him. Carter followed him.

"What is it?" Langenscheidt glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. He just slowed down, but didn't stop.

"Nothing, we just want to walk a little around the camp," Carter said from the opposite side.

Together they walked while Langenscheidt glanced nervously from one to the other.

"Nice weather, what do you think, Carter?" LeBeau snuggled his chin deeper into his scarf belying his words.

"You're right, LeBeau. It's perfect weather for the upcoming festivals, isn't it?" Carter really didn't seem to mind the cold weather. He had his head raised and a real smile on his face, despite the cold wind.

Langenscheidt shrugged. "There will not be any festivities."

"No? And here I thought you all planned a big party," LeBeau commented. "We would celebrate big if we had the chance."

The German corporal frowned. "I didn't know that France also had the Saint Martin's Day tradition."

LeBeau's relaxed grin froze. He bit on his lip and grumbled something about _les boches_.

"Saint Martin's Day, I have heard about it." Carter tilted his head with a thoughtful expression on his face. "I think it was -"

Finally, Langenscheidt stopped. "If you did not ask about Saint Martin's Day, what else would you celebrate?"

LeBeau opened his mouth, but before words could leave, Carter interrupted him and turned to Langenscheidt with a friendly grin. "What do you think?"

Langenscheidt hesitated. He glanced from LeBeau to Carter and back. He clearly didn't know whether to believe Carter's friendly face or to keep his mouth shut because of the scowl on LeBeau's face. "The beginning of carnival is only celebrated in a few parts of Germany. I don't think you will have anything heard about this."

"Carnival?" LeBeau made a retching sound without retching. Carter gave him a sympathetic pat on the back.

"Are you unwell?" Langenscheidt asked and seemed honestly concerned.

LeBeau took a deep breath and shook his head. "I just remembered my last carnival," he said to cover his reaction.

"Yes, it can be wild, but not before February. The beginning of the carnival is just a local event, nothing big." He shrugged. "The November is dull and nobody is out to celebrate much."

"Too bad. I'd thought because it's so glum you also celebrate Thanksgiving or -" Carter stopped himself in time. "Just thought, you'd also have something to take your mind off the weather."

"No," Langenscheidt said, "we celebrate Thanksgiving in October."

LeBeau rubbed his hands together. "And political? There's nothing important?"

Langenscheidt froze. "Are you spying on me?"

"Why would we? We're just trying to learn something," Carter rebuked the accusation with indignation.

The German guard studied them with narrowed eyes. Then he looked in the distance. "I guess the ninth of November is an important date."

"The ninth, not the eleventh?" LeBeau couldn't keep the disdain out of his voice. How could anything be more important than this day.

"Of course. On November 9, 1918, our emperor abdicated, and they proclaimed the republic." Langenscheidt smiled a little. Abruptly, the smile vanished and was replaced by creases of worry on his forehead. "But in case anybody asks you what I said you'll say that I said the right thing, yes?"

"The right thing?" Carter put his hands into his pockets. "What would be the right thing?"

Langenscheidt started to walk. "It is the day Hitler tried first to overthrow the government-"

Now Carter stopped short. "What do you mean he tried? Last time I checked he is indeed the leader of your people."

"But not 1923," Langenscheidt countered. Then he looked around. Only as he couldn't see anybody in earshot, he relaxed slightly and continued. "Back then he failed, was arrested and sentenced to several years in prison."

Carter blinked and stared at him in shock. "But - but - " He glanced to LeBeau who tried to play it off as general knowledge and just shrugged.

"Does not matter anymore. The only thing that is important is that I remember the failed attempt and how he had tried already back then to rescue Germany but Germany had been still held by its enemies." Langenscheidt sounded like a record, reciting what he had learned in school without ever thinking about the meaning of its words. "The November criminals."

"The who?" LeBeau asked. Tilting his head, he tried to remember a right newspaper article that had explained it, back before the war as German politics had been only meaningless noise in his life.

"I'm not into politics," Langenscheidt said and started his patrol again. "I'm just a normal soldier. Please stop asking question." He continued, but they stuck by his side. Langenscheidt threw them a glare. "And please stop following me. I was always good to you, wasn't I? Don't get me into trouble."

"But you didn't answer our question," Carter insisted. LeBeau grabbed his jacket and pulled him away. With a relieved sigh, Langenscheidt marched on.

* * *

"Governor?" Newkirk poked his head through the half-opened door. "Do you have a minute?"

Hogan put down his pen. Pushing away the sketch of the camp, he straightened up. "Sure, what is it Corporal?"

Newkirk came in. Shifting from one foot to the other, he was looking for words. "It's about Poppy Day," he finally said. "I know what you have said but-"

The colonel sighed and crossed his arms. "Newkirk," he interrupted him but didn't know what else to say. He rubbed across his forehead. "What about Armistice Day?"

"It may be a good advice to celebrate it here and now. And not only because we're currently at war, but I think we really need to adhere to the tradition. It's important." He wrung his hands.

"I know it's important especially now. Schultz and Klink may not be your average German soldier, but they have their breaking point. Nobody likes to have his failures rubbed in. And both of them were fighting back then," Hogan said trying to explain his reasoning and soliciting for understanding.

"As did my father and my uncles and everybody else in the right age range. All of Britain went to war." Newkirk shook his head. "I've known my father as an irascible and angry man who loved his drinks more than anything else. There's only one time I can remember when I have seen him somber and sober. And that was Poppy day. Christmas and birthdays were days to fight and drink but for two minutes on Poppy Day he seemed to be at peace with himself and the world. Everything was still and silent. Nobody moved and ... He needed it. He needed to know that the sacrifices he had made were appreciated. He needed to remember."

It was the longest speech Newkirk ever had given and probably the most personal. Hogan waited for him to continue, showing that he was listening by leaning back and nodding.

"The war had changed everything. For the first time people had been afraid when a flier was on the horizon after the first air raid ever. My father didn't find a job or couldn't keep. And it wasn't only his fault. Where I grew up you always saw amputees and other ... I learned to survive on my own from them by simply watching and learning. I grew up in the damage done to our country and nation. And now more than ever we need to stick together." He took a deep breath. "I know that every Brit is going to remember Armistice Day and know that we will win again."

In the following silence, the sound of the outer barracks and the men outside penetrated the thin walls. Inside, only the breathing of two men could be heard for a long moment.

"In the US, you could live your life without really participating in the war. You had to read the newspaper or work in the mercenary navy to really feel the effects. Not even as we started to send troops over," Hogan confessed.

Newkirk snorted. "Not in Great Britain, not for us. Nobody back then and nobody born after could ever escape this war."

Nodding, Hogan relaxed his arms. "Is your father still alive?"

Newkirk shrugged and looked away. "It doesn't matter. I don't know nor do I really want to know." He raised his head. "But he deserves these two minutes of peace."

"I'll think about it." Hogan nodded and Newkirk turned away "But corporal?" he waited until he had his full attention. "The order still stands until I say something else - nobody wears a poppy, alright?"

Nodding, Newkirk grabbed the doorknob just as it was pushed open. LeBeau and Carter rushed in and the solemn moment vanished and Newkirk smirked. "What's the emergency?"

"No emergency," LeBeau growled. "Did you know that the Germans actually celebrate carnival on Remembrance Day?"

Hogan snapped his fingers. Carnival would be a perfect opportunity to smuggle Major von Hofer out - he still hadn't really a plan how to get him out of Germany. But a carnival sounded like a great start.

"What!" Newkirk's angry shout destroyed his plan even before he had formulated it.

"That's not what Langenscheidt has said," Carter interjected, "he said some celebrate it and it's only small scale and in preparation of the real carnival."

Deflated, Hogan asked, "No big pageant and disguise?"

"Non, _mon colonel_. But they laugh, and we -" LeBeau broke off, muttering in French. Newkirk's scowl was in agreement with whatever the French corporal was saying.

After LeBeau had finish his tirade, Hogan focused back on Carter. "Anything else?"

"Before the war, they had traditional marches with torches and fires to remember Saint Martin but since the Nazi and the war nobody had celebrated it anymore."

"Of course, the Nazis can't have any competition in processions with torches." LeBeau was a full of fury. The ire surrounded him like a dark cloud with a full-blown thunderstorm. Hogan almost expected to see flashes.

Carter glanced to his friend before he finished his report. "Apart from that, there are only political days like the ninth of November. No other celebrations."

With a sigh, Hogan sat down on his stool and tilted his head back. No way to get von Hofer out.

"So how do we get the major to London?" Carter asked the one million dollar question.

Only silence was his answer.

* * *

 _November 7, 1944_

Klink swallowed hard. He glanced to his left and right. Then he raised his hand to knock. Before his knuckles could hit the wooden door, he pulled back in fear. Again, he looked left and right. Suddenly, the door opened a small crack and Rosa peered out.

"Colonel Klink?" She opened the door and pulled him inside. "Don't stand around in the hallway if you don't want to raise suspicions."

The hotel room was plain and mundane with only a bed, a chair and a small desk. Everything seemed undisturbed except the bed. On it, Rosa had spread all of her dresses. She had never been this untidy. Klink couldn't look away. He remembered her as always dressed perfectly and in the newest fashion but these dresses were not only just thrown on the bed, but they were also old.

"I sold most of my clothes. We had some friends who were willing to help us out by buying most of my dresses." Rosa explained. "Now I just have only a few."

"I didn't -" Klink looked away and tripped over his words as he tried to defend his prolonged stare.

"You were looking. But you're not here to inspect my wardrobe, are you?" She played with the ring on her finger. "Did you find Jacob?"

Klink removed his hat and kneaded the rim. He opened his mouth but didn't really know what to say. She looked so full of hope. The longer he remained silent the more her smile dimmed. Distressed, she sat down with tears in her eyes. "You were my last hope."

"I called everybody I could think of, but I'm not ..." he looked down. "I'm not a general. They didn't tell me anything."

Rosa buried her head in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking. She cried.

Awkwardly, Klink stood beside her and patted her back. "Don't cry. I'm sure that -"

"You're sure what?" Rosa jumped up. The tears were running down her face but there was another expression etched on it. "You're sure what?" she repeated. She lowered her voice. "You're sure that the Germans are good people? That they are gentlemanly and won't sink so low? That there always had been pogroms, and then they were over again?" She used her index finger to poke him. "You are sure that everybody who fought in the Great War on the side of Germany is a true German, right?"

Klink shrunk back. He didn't really know what to do with a crying or angry woman. That was one of the reasons why he had never married.

"Jacob had also been sure about all of this," she said and calmed down again. "He had been sure that his people would never sink so low." She looked away. "Until they came for him."

"Rosa," Klink began. He needed to say something - anything to make it better when he suddenly heard a new sound. He straightened, trying to identify the noise.

"I really wanted to go with him," Rosa spoke softly. "But then I -" she broke off as the unmistakably sound of retching was audible. She reacted fast and jumped forward, throwing her clothes off the bed and pulling away the bedspread.

Surprised, Klink stepped back. "What-" he pointed to the bed as Rosa freed a young man from his hiding place. Pulling out his head, she held a bowl while he puked.

Klink looked around, suddenly terrified about what he was doing. But nobody appeared and nothing happened except the retching of a very sick young man. He looked again and froze. The young man looked exactly like Jacob. Finally, it clicked. "That's Kurt, your son." He hadn't seen the young man for several years. But back then he had been a strapping young man planning to study at a university. Klink stepped forward to look again. The man back then had nothing in common with the thin man in front of him. He looked more like Jacob at the end of the war after years on rations with too few calories. Not his son.

Rosa stood up. The anger on her face had been replaced with fear. "Are you going to turn us in?"

"Turn you in?" Klink shook his head. "I don't understand."

"There was only one thing that kept me from going with Jacob and that was our son." Rosa explained. She wrung her hands. "He was the only reason why I didn't stay with Jacob. He needed my help as badly as Jacob."

Suddenly the sound of several heavy boots echoed across the hallway, followed by a loud knock on the first door. "Open up!" The order could be heard dull and still far away. Another set of knocks sounded along the hallway. It was a matter of minutes before they had turned the corner and were here.

Klink paled and started to shake. Rosa bit on her lip to keep it from trembling. Kurt sank back into his pillow, pale and glistering with sweat. The colonel couldn't take his eyes off him. Memories from the field hospital came back and Jacob's words and bravery. He shook his head. Jacob had helped him then, he owed it to him to help now. "Come with me. I may only be a colonel, but I am still an officer of the Luftwaffe."

He shrugged out of his coat. "Fast. Rosa help him to get up. He'll take my coat and hat. I have my staff car parked in front of the hotel."

Rosa threw her clothes in her suitcase. Then she helped her son to walk. Together, they left the hotel through the back door. The only guard they met just saluted a superior officer.

Only after he started to drive off and glanced in the mirror, Klink realized what he had done. He almost veered off the street as he started to shake in earnest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Mon colonel?" LeBeau stepped up beside the radio where Hogan had just finished his conversation with London. Somehow they didn't seem to grasp the concept that he couldn't just send von Hofer over to them. He raised his head and looked to LeBeau.

"Permission to speak freely?"

Hogan raised an eyebrow. That wasn't a good start for a conversation. Straightening, he waved his hand and gave permission.

"We can't forget Remembrance Day," LeBeau stated and held his head high.

"Nobody wants to forget the day," Hogan said. "We just have to be careful how we remember it. Wearing poppies and cornflowers in front of the Germans isn't the best way."

"If we don't honor the day, we forget." LeBeau argued. "I know the U.S. entry into the war changed it for the better. But it's still our nation that took the brunt of the German aggression. There are areas without any life because everything is snowed in shells and bullets and human bodies. If you go there you'll find bones sticking out of the earth and if you have bad luck you'll find a grenade."

"I understand."

"With all due respect, I don't think you understand that especially in this time this day is more important than ever. This victory defined France. We stood together and endured everything that the Germans could throw at us, and at the end we won. Now France has been overrun by the Germans, and we need to hold out until we can push them back. It's not every man for himself, but every Frenchman for France."

"LeBeau," Hogan said and held up a hand to stop the speech.

"We need this symbol for a united France, for _Liberté, égalité, fraternité_." His voice became louder and stronger. He could make people forget his small height. Sometimes his heart got so big it outgrew his body.

"LeBeau, I hear you," Hogan interrupted him more firmly, "but if we wear a _Bleuet de France_ on Armistice Day even Klink is going to ask questions like how we got this flowers. Because of the meaning of this day, we need to keep a low profile."

"I need to wear it," LeBeau argued and his voice was barely a whisper. "If necessary I can hide it and the Germans won't see it, but my heart will know that I haven't forgotten France."

Hogan sighed. With his left hand, he rubbed across his face feeling his stubble. He needed a shave. "I'll think about it. But you need to think about this war."

" _Oui, mon colonel_." LeBeau nodded and had calmed down again. "But it's easier to fight this war while knowing that you have once already won."

Hogan agreed with him on that point, but LeBeau carried his heart on his sleeve and in this case a _Bleuet de France_ on his label.

Watching LeBeau disappearing in the tunnel again, Hogan pinched the bridge of his nose. Why couldn't the major pick a different time to stumble across them? Dealing with Armistice Day in a POW camp in Germany was already challenging enough. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "It's a good thing I love a good challenge," he murmured in the emptiness of the tunnel. "A really good thing."

* * *

 _November 9, 1944_

Klink closed the door to his office and leaned against it. After he had smuggled Kurt and his mother into the camp, he had hid the son in his bed.

What was he supposed to do if the gestapo came?

He looked around the room, trying to spot a solution. But he only spotted his schnapps. Without hesitation, he went to the alcohol, poured himself a glass and gulped it down. The glass clanked against the bottle as he put it down. His hands were shaking so badly, he balled them into a fist.

"What have you done, Wilhelm?" he whispered into the empty room. "What have you done?"

For years, he had stayed out of all the political implications and just done his duty and now he had gotten involved.

He poured himself another glass. Forcing himself to go slowly, he only took a sip. The burning sensation down his throat was a welcome distraction from the feeling in his stomach.

Klink went to his desk and let himself fall down in his chair. He had found a safe place to endure the war far better than the last war and in one quick decision he had endangered all of it.

"What have you done?"

Only the ticking sound of his clock interrupted the silence.

* * *

Hogan tapped his pen against the desk. The way it went down, he needed to come up with two plans. One to get the German major to England and one to prevent a mutiny. If LeBeau and Newkirk went against his orders he couldn't just let it slip without reacting. He didn't really want to react but a simple prohibition didn't seem to be enough. For these two and more important for all the Brits and Frenchmen in camp it was far more than an important day. It was part of their identity and it would be unwise to ignore it he had realized.

He stood up and stretched the tense muscles in his back and shoulder. Time was running out for both plans.

Without conscious thought, Hogan wandered to their guest. He nodded to Olsen who lingered in front of their dead-end tunnel used as guest quarters or cell whatever term was preferred. Kinch deserved a raise how he organized that always somebody could be down in the tunnel without being missed upstairs. But then again somehow he also had always the radio manned.

He grabbed a stool and went into the tunnel.

"How are you?" He asked in greeting. The German major sat on a small cot, leaning against the cold wall behind him.

"Old," he answered.

Hogan put his stool down and sat down. "Old?"

"One year ago, I would have been shocked to discover a setup like this." The major leaned forward. A smile without humor flickered across his face. "I would have done everything to escape and make a report. But now?" He shrugged. "Now I'm just glad that somebody is still fighting against him and still having the means to do it."

Hogan nodded. "We need to talk."

Von Hofer glanced to the doorway. His stubble darkened his chin and underlined his exhausted expression. "About what?"

"We need to get you out of Germany," Hogan stated.

"Not disagreeing with you there."

"But at the moment we don't have an idea. So, is there anything London, we, need to know right now?"

The major shrugged. "Operation Valkyrie has failed and everybody who wasn't loyal enough or had been outspoken against something is now dead or in prison." He looked down. "But that's almost the same."

"So, there isn't anybody left to rise up against Hitler?"

"I don't think so." He slowly moved his head from left to right. "You have to realize that we have risked everything." He stared at Hogan, his face even paler now. "Last thing I heard Himmler wants to wipe out our names, killing everybody who is related to us. He has arrested our wives and taken away our children." He looked Hogan in the eyes. "I don't think you'll find anybody willing to rise up again. Not after they are done."

Hogan was silent for a few seconds. There wasn't anything to say. They both knew the truth behind his words. Then he repeated his statement, stating it more precisely. "We need information about military strategy and what kind of resistance we have to prepare for."

"How long do you have your operation here, Colonel Hogan?"

"Long enough."

"Then you should know in what kind of world we are living." Major von Hofer leaned back until he could rest again against the wall.

"I don't think I get what you're trying to say."

"The last war ended with an armistice and then the Treaty of Versailles."

"I know." Hogan crossed his arms. Armistice Day was following him wherever he went, even in a conversation with a German major.

"Our fathers had come home hungry, hurt and ashamed. Wilhelm I would have never signed the Treaty of Versailles and none of our fathers would have ever lay down their arms if they had known what that treaty would include." He tilted his head. In the flickering light of the lamp the shadows on his face seemed to tell a story and gave him an odd expression as if he was wearing a mask.

"I get that you think this treaty was unfair," Hogan said, "but this has nothing to do with my question."

"Quite the opposite, colonel. It has everything to do with your question. We watched our fathers suffer and being used by every political party. We saw them hurting and learned the most important thing - come home as a hero or don't come home at all. Hitler used this reading of the World War I to call us to the arms - to get justice - for our people, for our nation and for our fathers because they were sent home in shame without deserving this shame."

"You lost the war," Hogan stated. "Your Supreme Army Command had failed. It should have asked for an armistice long before 1918."

"Maybe, but then they would have deserved the shame and not our fathers. Do you know what it meant to watch every year my father on the eleventh of November? It hurt to see him like this, and I and the other sons I knew, would have done everything to heal this suffering, to take away their pain." The shadows distorted his face and as he moved his head he looked like a caricature. "And the worst of it? Our emperor wouldn't have ever signed the treaty. We didn't lose the war, we were betrayed by our own people back home. If the workers hadn't downed their tools - " He shook his head. "The republicans who signed the armistice and the treaty - they betrayed our people. They betrayed our fathers."

Hogan snorted. "You think you were betrayed?" He had heard about it, he had read it in the newspaper but it was the first time somebody said it to his face - somebody who wasn't a Nazi at all.

"Our army was still in France, none of the allied soldiers had set a foot in our country. They hadn't crossed the border. We had won against Russia. And from one day to the other we had lost. They signed our ruin."

"Do you really believe this?" Hogan had to ask. The major didn't strike him as somebody who would just repeat what he had heard. His words sounded sincere and honest, and yet he couldn't believe how a major who should know better could believe something like that.

"You won't find a true German who doesn't know this. The November criminals were responsible for this. They failed our people and led us into socialism. We didn't lose the war - we were stabbed in the back."

Hogan snorted. "You realize what we call this read on history? We call it the stab-in-the-back myth." He waited until the major had time to distill the words before he repeated his point. "It is a myth and as a major of the German Wehrmacht you should know this."

For a moment von Hofer looked away, his head bowed. But then he shook his head and raised his eyes to look at Hogan. "It doesn't matter," he said and sounded weary. "What matters is that nobody wants to become the next backstabber. This was the biggest obstacle. We are soldiers. The others of our group, the priests and reverends, they had doubts about killing somebody. They thought about eternal life and right and wrong. We weren't plagued by doubts as they were. We all had killed and had seen death firsthand. What we feared the most was the public opinion and how bad the backslash from the people on the streets would be."

"You think the German would have fought against you?"

A sharp glare hit Hogan. "We knew that we had to kill Hitler, or we would never have a chance to success. But yes, we were sure that we would be viewed as traitors." He rubbed across his stubble. "This was a given because we would do the same as they did back then - take power and ask for an armistice."

"So the Germans still support Hitler?"

"They support Germany," von Hofer said. "They just need to see that the Fuhrer isn't Germany."

Hogan felt sick. Now he understood why London needed to talk to him in person. It was hard work to separate propaganda and real information but unbelievable useful to have a better understanding about the German mindset for the advancing troops. He stood up. He was just glad that neither LeBeau nor Newkirk had listened to their conversation. They all were sons of men who had fought in World War I. But that didn't matter now, he needed to get him to London.

"Colonel?"

Looking over his shoulder, Hogan stopped at the rare and honest expression on the major's face. He opened his mouth but only on the second try he could make himself to ask the one question, Hogan had anticipated the whole time. "Do you have any information about our families?"

"Last thing I have heard Himmler hadn't followed through with his plan." Hogan had actually needed to ask London because the German radio had only reported endless violence. "But they were all arrested and if proven to be involved executed." He held his gaze. "But I don't know anything about your family in particular."

"Women, too?"

Hogan nodded. "Yes." He couldn't sugarcoat it. "Women, too." Waiting for a reaction, Hogan paused a moment. When the silence remained undisturbed, he turned away to leave the major alone with his thoughts.

"Colonel?"

He stopped again.

"There was one piece of information I have picked up in one of my visits in the Fuhrerbunker." He paused. "They said that the Ardennes were always kind to the Germans."

"They plan a new offensive?"

Von Hofer shrugged. "I don't know but I think that's what they meant."

There was no other way, he needed to get him to London.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 _November 10, 1944_

"Colonel?" Carter waited for him next to the tunnel entrance. "I think we need to do something for Armistice Day."

Hogan hadn't even climbed out of the bed hiding the tunnel before he was again bombarded with this request. "Did Newkirk send you?"

"No." Carter put his hands in his pockets.

"LeBeau?" Hogan closed the trap door behind him.

"No." The sergeant shook his head. "I just wanted to talk to you about Armistice Day."

Hogan took a deep breath and looked at his watch. Time was running out and now even Carter joined the mutiny. He grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. "Okay. What's on your mind?"

Carter slowly lowered himself down. "As I was a child, every year there was a big parade in the next town. My cousin always wanted to go but our mothers had forbidden it. My cousin was really fascinated by it and wanted to become a soldier. So he came up with a plan."

Hogan looked into his cup and regarded the reflection on the bottom of it while he listened to Carter's story.

"He asked his mother if he could come over and told my mother that we would play behind his house. Knowing that I wasn't interested in the parade, both agreed."

"Let me guess, your cousin went to the parade."

Carter nodded. "He dragged me with him. I was his alibi and needed to stay with him. If anybody had seen me without him, he would have been in deep trouble. So, we went there and watched the parade." He fell silent.

Hogan waited a short moment but then lost his patience. "Carter, you wanted to tell me something and not get lost in your memories."

"Oh yes. Back then I didn't understand why we remembered that day. I learned in school about the battles, about the war and about the trenches. We even had pictures but then I went home and played and in the evening I went to sleep in my own bed.

"But now, here in this camp, I understand what service means. It's not the one battle you fight and either win or lose. It's not a single day, it's weeks on end, it's endurance and strength. To serve your country you committed yourself to not give up. I never really appreciated the sacrifices made by the men before me. I don't know if next year I'm still alive to remember them. But this year I'm alive and I want to remember and honor them and aspire to be like them."

Hogan took a sip of his cold coffee. "It's my job to ensure that next year you have the chance to remember and to be remembered. And for that we can't act indifferent to the German losses in that war."

"I understand, sir. It's just maybe the provocation is less than you thought because they also served their country."

"I'll think about something," Hogan promised. He only had another day. Maybe LeBeau's plan with wearing the flowers hidden wasn't so bad after all. "But first we need to get a plan to get the major to London. Any good idea for that?"

Carter made a face.

Hogan sighed and rested his head on his hands. No rest for the weary.

* * *

 _November 11, 1944_

In the night, fog had descended on Stalag XIII and forced the guards on the tower to peer through the thick mist.

Hogan had fallen asleep on his desk trying to find a way to get the major out of Germany. He hoped to find a private moment for his men and himself at the right hour and minute. For this he had already brought the pouch with the flowers with him and hid it in his quarters. Colonel Klink hadn't announced any special plans and seemed to be more occupied with the woman in his quarters. Not even Schultz had known who had accommodated him. Sadly, he had used three chocolate bars until he had been certain.

It was before dawn as suddenly Sergeant Schultz scuffled into the barracks. "Roll call! Roll call," he called out on top of his voice. "Everybody out. Out!"

Hogan jerked up. His neck hurt from his position and his lower back stole his breath as he tried to stand up. He was getting too old for this line of work.

"Roll call!" Schultz said and knocked against his door.

Confused, Hogan took his jacket and hobbled to the door. Tired and confused faces greeted him from the unexpected wake up. "What's up Schultzie? It's not even dawn yet," Newkirk asked the one question that also occupied Hogan's mind.

"It's late enough." Schultz thumped on the wooden beds. Every step around the table was accompanied by a loud knock. "Roll call!"

"What's going on Schultz?" Hogan asked while he slipped into his jacket. If Newkirk's question didn't receive an answer maybe he as an officer would get one. "It's not even six o'clock. What's the hurry?"

Schultz grumbled something unintelligibly under his breath. "It's roll call - that should be enough information for you." He went to the door and stopped there. Pulling out his white gloves, he waited for the men to leave.

"What are you doing, Schultz?" Hogan asked. "Did the chocolate disagree with you? Or what is bugging you?"

"Colonel Hogan," Schultz said and turned on his heels to face him. "I just do my duty and search this barracks now. If you have any complaints, you know where Colonel Klink resides."

Irritated, Hogan glanced to his men. Newkirk shrugged his shoulders while LeBeau's face made utterly clear what he thought about the Germans in general and German soldiers in particular. Kinch kept his face carefully blank and Carter was just confused but went with the flow. All in all nobody had a real clue what had ruined Schultz' mood.

"Roll call!" he called out again. "That includes you too, Colonel Hogan."

With a slight smirk to hide his insecurity, Hogan pushed around Schultz and went to the door. Looking over his shoulder, he confirmed that Schultz really was going to inspect the room. Walking along the line of his men, Hogan paused near Kinch. "Is he going to find something?"

"If he sees something, yes," Kinch reported. "We are not completely clean."

"And what is he going to find?"

"Some radio parts, a partial map. Nothing dangerous but if Schultz wants to find some offense to punish, he'll have plenty of choices."

Hogan bit his lip and went to his position. The fog remained thick and the air felt damp. Shivering, he zipped up his jacket and turned his collar up.

On the horizon the first sun-rays appeared. Besides him, Newkirk shifted from one foot to the other. A motion that was mimicked all along the lines. Hogan could understand the sentiment. The weather and time wasn't made for a prolonged roll call but Schultz took his sweet time. The mood was already somber and nobody talked more than a few necessary words - it was after all Armistice Day.

Finally, Hogan estimated an hour had passed, Schultz shut the door behind him and strolled across the compound. In his left hand, he cradled LeBeau's pouch with the flowers.

"That's -" LeBeau uttered and lunged forward.

Kinch grabbed his shoulder before he could leave the line. "Don't!"

"But -" LeBeau struggled in Kinch's tight grip. "This is-"

"LeBeau, let it go!" Hogan ordered. "If this is the only thing Schultz has decided to see we're lucky."

"That's wrong!" Newkirk growled and balled his fist but didn't move.

"I know," Hogan agreed. "But we can't change it now." Hoping that his order was enough to keep his men in line.

Schultz looked over his shoulder as if he had heard the commotion before he resolutely moved on. As if he hadn't known better, Klink arrived at the steps of the commandant's office to receive Schultz' report. "All prisoners present and accounted for."

Klink acknowledged it with a short salute. "Dismissed." He hurried back inside as if he had to hide something.

Colonel Hogan was just herding his men into the barracks to make a new plan as Sergeant Schultz came back in their direction. His face didn't promise anything good.

* * *

Klink stood behind his desk in his office.

"How long do you think we can stay?" Rosa asked. She leaned against the filing cabinet. Her dark red dress was the only color in the room.

The colonel wrung his hands together. "Rosa, I'm running the toughest POW camp in the whole of Germany." He sighed. "We have rules and -"

Suddenly a loud knock interrupted them. "What!"

Corporal Langenscheidt stormed into the office before Klink had finished speaking. "Herr Kommandant, Major Hochstatter is at the front gate and demands to search the camp."

In fear, Klink widened his eyes. His monocle fell out of his eye. "Major Hochstetter and the gestapo is here?"

Rosa paled. "Wilhelm," she uttered breathlessly. She stared at him with wide open eyes. "Please, you-"

Shaking, Klink looked around the office trying to spot his salvation.

"Colonel Klink. What shall I tell-"

Klink's gaze grazed the window, and he spotted the prisoners outside. "Tell him, I'll be there in a minute but don't let him enter just yet."

"But Herr Kommandant - Major Hochstetter-" Langenscheidt stuttered. He was almost as pale as his colonel.

He didn't listen to the complaint and hurried outside.

"Wilhelm?" Rosa called after him.

"Stay here. You are my new secretary if anybody asks. I'll take care of your boy," he promised leaving Langenscheidt and Rosa clueless behind him. He had one goal. There was only one man capable of helping him now.

Following the loud protest, Klink located Hogan easily near his men and Sergeant Schultz.

"Schultz, seriously. This work can be spaced across several days. We are still going to be here tomorrow. There's no need to do all of this in one day," Hogan protested. He had his hands in his pockets while his men were busy digging a new latrine under the watchful eye of Sergeant Schultz.

"No, Colonel Hogan, this needs to be done today. This is a prisoner of war and not a vacation camp." Schultz answered in a voice that reminded Colonel Klink that Sergeant Schultz was a real soldier and not just a big toy maker.

Shaking his head, Klink had to deal with more urgent problems. "Colonel Hogan," he called out. "You need to help me."

Hogan pivoted around and raised his eyebrows. "I need to help you?" His expression was borderline annoyed. He didn't seem to be in the mood for a grand gesture of grace.

But Klink had no choice. "Yes."

"And why would I-"

"Colonel Hogan, you can make people disappear." Klink shivered in the cold wind. In his hurry he hadn't even grabbed his coat or cap. "I have seen it with my own eyes. One moment they are here and the next moment they're gone. In my quarters there is a young man who has to disappear before Major Hochstetter finds him."

"Hochstetter is here?" Now Hogan's expression settled on annoyance. "I guess he is your problem. I have currently a problem with your sergeant of the guards." He turned back to Schultz. "Schultz-"

"Colonel Hogan, do you really think I would be out here asking for help if I had any other choice?"

Hogan shot him a glare over his shoulder. "If I help you, what is in it for us?" Mistrust mixed with curiosity was reflected on Hogan's face.

"My life, if you care. Or maybe just doing the right thing." The wind blew dirt into his face from the shoveling of the prisoners but Klink ignored the small chunks. Without his cap, the wind felt colder but to be shot he didn't need his cap.

The mistrust was replaced with surprise. "I'll need my men if I'm supposed to help you-"

"Schultz!" This was the easiest part.

"Ja, Herr Kommandant?"

"Colonel Hogan's men are exempted."

"Herr Kommandant-" Schultz started. But Klink interrupted him. "Not now. Just do it. That's an order." In his mind, he noted grimly that this could be very well his last order. "I'm at the gate trying to buy you as much time as possible."

Hogan didn't look relieved but Klink couldn't waste any more time. Langenscheidt wouldn't be able to keep Hochstetter out for long. A colonel of the Luftwaffe wouldn't be able to keep him out long. He could just hope that Hogan would help him and not sell him out.

* * *

Hogan couldn't help but being curious about the mysterious guest. Klink seldom had real surprises or secrets for him, and he wanted to know what Klink had done. Without knocking, Hogan stormed into the bedroom - and froze. In front of him, a young man stood on shaky legs and tried to reach the door. The young man eyed him the same way Hogan did. But Hogan was used to make a decision in a few seconds.

"Newkirk?" He glanced over his shoulder. The British corporal just came in, his focus on the blisters on his hands. "We need a British uniform and inform Wilson that he gets a sick prisoner." Without protest, Newkirk nodded and hurried off.

"Carter?" He beckoned his sergeant over, "help me to carry him to the infirmary."

Hogan turned to the young man. "What's your name?" he asked and grabbed the nearest blanket to throw it over his shoulder.

The young man swallowed and fixed him with a glare that hadn't lost its heat despite the pale face and wide eyes. He kept silent and watched him.

"Okay, no name. We need to get you to the infirmary. Colonel Klink has asked us to do this because ..." Hogan trailed off. Klink's mysterious guest was staring at him as if he tried to understand his words. For a moment Hogan contemplated to speak German but decided against it. He had no idea who Klink had brought in and shouldn't reveal anything.

But as Carter and Hogan stepped up to him he took a step back. Sighing, Hogan turned to his man. "Carter, explain him in German that Colonel Klink has asked us to bring him to the infirmary because the gestapo is at the front gate."

Carter nodded and repeated his message in German. Hogan wouldn't have thought it possible, but the young man paled even further and started to shake in earnest. But at least this time he didn't evade their attempt to help him and let them near to carry him between them as fast as possible to the infirmary. Hogan noted that Klink's name and order seemed to have the most effect.

Newkirk was already waiting with the British uniform, and they helped him to put it on.

A short shrill whistle from Kinch alerted Hogan that he was needed outside. With a last glance to the English name on the uniform, Hogan left the barracks and hoped that Wilson was a good actor.

Hochstetter was already in the camp and was just leaving Klink's quarters. He prowled across the compound with Klink trailing after him.

"Who would've thought that our beloved commandant could have such secrets," Hogan said as he slipped next to Kinch. "How could we miss this?"

"We knew about the old friend of Klink, the woman he had brought in. We have noted her arrival. But the young man?" Kinch shrugged. "He truly smuggled him in. I'm not sure how we could miss it."

"In our own camp." Hogan shook his head. They had gotten careless and forgotten that sometimes Klink could do something right. "Let's hope, it's nobody important."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Hogan watched Hochstetter prowling across the compound with Klink trailing after him. The gestapo major seemed especially ill-tempered.

"I still don't understand what you are searching in my camp now," Klink said. "You are certainly mistaken with your unfounded suspicions."

"Klink," Hochstetter said through clenched teeth, "don't try to do my job. You can't even do your own job."

The commandant raised his hand. "Nobody has ever escaped successfully from my camp." Slowly, he let his hand fall down. Hochstetter's glare was enough to weaken his stance.

As the major arrived in front of the infirmary, Hogan stepped up. "Major Hochstetter, what a pleasant surprise. Do you want to celebrate with us?"

"What is this man doing here?"

"Major Hochstetter, that's Colonel Hogan, the senior-" Klink reintroduced them again as if he couldn't remember the last few times he had done so.

"I know who he is." Hochstetter's face was twisted in a permanent scowl that ruined his attempts to look smug. "I want to know what he is doing here!"

"That I've asked myself often," Hogan said and grinned. "If you want, I can go - I just need to pack a few things ..."

"Don't bother, Colonel Hogan," Hochstetter sneered. "And now get out of my way. Or do you want to tell me right away where you are hiding them?"

For a few seconds, Hogan froze in shock that they had been betrayed until he registered that Hochstetter had used the plural. He squared his shoulders and settled for a smile. "I'm just a lowly prisoner. I can't even hide a file to break out of here."

"This is the toughest prisoner of war camp in all of Germany," Klink repeated his most beloved sentence. "We never had a successful escape and -"

"Klink!" Hochstetter screeched. "I'm not interested in your self-praise," he said. "But I am really interested in what Colonel Hogan has to tell me." He turned with a false smile to face Hogan. "So where are you hiding these men?"

Hogan raised his chin in indignation. After glancing around, he settled on a questioning expression. "I didn't know I was hiding somebody. Give me a hint. Whom do I hide?"

Growling, Hochsetter's false smile turned to a scowl. "Two days ago, a few -" he paused and looked up. He appeared to be thinking about the right word to chose. "- workers from a nearby factory left their workstation and didn't return."

Hogan could smell the lie. "You mean some of your forced laborers escaped?" He glanced to Colonel Klink and was startled to see the truth reflecting in his eyes and the paleness of his face. Klink moved his lips but made no sound. "So, does that mean you need help to build your Third Reich? I thought you did all of this alone," Hogan continued to keep Hochstetter's attention away from Klink and his missing poker face.

"How we build the glorious Third Reich is none of your business. Just be assured that we will build it." Hochstetter was oblivious to the confession on Klink's face behind him. He was only focused on the American officer.

Laughing out loud, Hogan averted Hochstetter's attention with his usual defense. "Why would anybody just escaped from a prison hide in another prison?"

"Bah!" Hochstetter shoved Hogan away and stalked to the nearest barracks.

"Colonel!" Kinch whispered. He pointed to the sign next to the door. "Infirmary."

Hogan cursed and hurried after Hochstetter. "Major Hochstetter," he started, "why don't you just tell us the truth? You came all the way here to celebrate with us Armistice Day, right?"

As expected, this stopped Hochstetter short. "What day?" He asked while he turned around to face Hogan.

Ignoring the warning Kinch tried to give him by clearing his throat, Hogan continued on his dangerous path. Newkirk, LeBeau and Carter would need more time. "The eleventh of November is the day of the Armistice, the day World War I ended. It's a time to remember."

Hochstetter's face became an unhealthy shade of red. Bristling with rage, he pulled out his gun.

Hogan opened his mouth, but he hadn't even enough saliva to swallow let alone words to stop the eruption of violence. He always knew that one of these days he would talk himself into his own grave. Just that it had to be Armistice day, annoyed him.

Time seemed to freeze while Hogan held his breath.

Suddenly, Klink stepped between Hochstetter with his raised pistol and Hogan.

Hogan's eyes darted to Kinch who looked for the first time since he knew him less than calm. Hogan knew Colonel Klink well enough to read his body language and see the insecurity and outright fear.

"This," Klink pointed to the pistol with a shaking finger, "won't be necessary. I'll deal with it."

Despite the fear, Klink sounded almost normal. Either way he could hide his fear well or Hogan was used so much to hear him quivering that this didn't strike him as odd at all.

Hochstetter held still, he made no sound or movement. Only the short and heavy breathing signaled that he was still alive.

"I'll call General Burkhalter. You can't shoot people in a POW camp." Klink tried to make a threat. "And you can't shoot an American officer. That's against the Geneva Convention."

Hogan dared to take a breath as Hochstetter lowered his gun. Klink's threat sounded as powerful as the threat of a little child to go to mom tattling. The quality of the threat all depended on the mother - and in this particular case on the reputation of a German general. Hogan didn't like it one bit better than he had liked it as a child.

"You will deal with it. Just how exactly?" Hochstetter had found his voice again. Apparently his anger didn't override his common sense, as much common sense as he had ever possessed. General Burkhalter had never made a secret out of his distaste for the gestapo and SS and would take an opportunity like that gladly.

"I was serving in the WWI - I was there that day." Klink drew himself up to full height. "Finish whatever your business is here and then go."

Kinch formed his mouth to a silent whistle. That was a first - Klink sounded almost as if he meant it and wouldn't crumble a few seconds later. Hogan caught Kinch's gaze and made a face.

"Bah!" Hochstetter pivoted on his heels and marched forward.

Newkirk poked his head out of the door to the infirmary and was almost run over by Hochstetter. In the last moment, he jumped back. On Hogan's raised eyebrow, Newkirk opened his hands and shrugged. They had done their best.

After a final glare to Hogan, Klink hurried after Hochstetter.

"That was tight," Kinch said while he let out a breath. He stood right beside Hogan.

"Tell me about it," Hogan said and allowed himself a shaky breath. This had been far closer than anticipated or planned. "Tell me about it," he repeated. The next gust of wind, Hogan enjoyed no matter how much the cold bit into his skin - to fell pain he had to be alive and feeling alive felt great. Pushing away the memory before it left him paralyzed with fear, Hogan refocused on the problems at hand. "Kinch?" He waited until he had his full attention. "Get down in the tunnel and call Klink's office with a message for Major Hochstetter."

"Let me guess," Kinch smirked, "They have found the two escaped forced laborers."

With a big smile, Hogan nodded. "Make it sound good. We need to lose Hochstetter fast before something else happens."

"No problem." Kinch slipped away.

Hogan paced in front of the infirmary barracks until the still red-faced Hochstetter stalked out and went to the next barracks. Relieved, Hogan returned LeBeau's solemn nod. They were clear for now.

* * *

Hogan sidled up to Klink who was watching Hochstetter leaving the camp. "Was he heart-broken that he didn't find anybody?"

"Hogan!" Klink jerked away. He was still pale but his raised fist was a good threat. Then he deflated. "He received a call that the men he was looking for had been apprehended. Did you have something to do with that?"

Hogan made his best innocent face and smiled. "You asked for it. We delivered."

Instead of more anger, Klink seemed to shrunk. "That I did." His voice sounded resigned and weary. But then he straightened again. "And you almost got us all shot!"

Snorting, Hogan crossed his arms. "I didn't hide an escaped forced laborer in here. The young man is one of the men Hochstetter was looking for, right? So who is he?"

Klink's gaze darted across the compound to his office and then the infirmary barracks. "It's none of your business."

"Herr Kommandant," Hogan said, his face earnest and serious, "you made it my business."

Schultz' voice was carried to them on the wind. Despite his loud shouting they could only understand scraps of his words. But it was enough to know that his mood hadn't improved at all.

"That's all your fault, you know?" Klink glanced to Hogan before he stared straight ahead.

"My fault?" Hogan laughed but it wasn't a pleasant laugh. "It's not too late to call Hochstetter back, if you insist."

Klink turned around and faced Hogan. "I mean you Americans and the Allies. If you hadn't cut down our army in the Dictate of Versailles, none of this would have happened."

For a moment, Hogan stood still, his mouth hanging open. For once, Klink had made him speechless.

"If we still had our army in the years after the last war, all of these young men would have enlisted and then would have been taught proper manners and behavior. They wouldn't have ended in a paramilitary organizations like the SS and gestapo." Klink sighed. "Any real soldier is ashamed of these thugs."

"Nice way to outsource the responsibility," Hogan commentated. He allowed the bitterness to creep into his voice. "Just who actually had founded and lead this paramilitary organizations? Wasn't it men from your honorable army?"

"You weren't there." Klink shook his head. He seemed far away before he shook himself out of his memories. "What do you want for your help?"

Hogan glanced to where Schultz was guarding his men. He could practically ask for anything and Klink would have to give it to him, and yet he could only think about one thing. "I want the pouch with our flowers back and permission to honor Remembrance Day in whatever way we deem necessary."

Klink curled his lips. For a moment, Hogan expected him to refuse his request, but then he nodded. "Schultz!"

Dutifully, Schultz trotted over. "Herr Kommandant?"

"Give Colonel Hogan the flowers back," Klink ordered without any questions what flowers Hogan had in mind.

The expression on Schultz' face darkened, and he snapped to attention. "With all due respect, Herr Kommandant, this is wrong."

The little patience Klink had left evaporated, and he stomped with his foot like a little child. "That's not a discussion but an order."

The pockets in his jacket were warm and Hogan dug his hands deeper into it. For the second time this day, Hogan was caught off guard. Neither Schultz nor Klink had ever shown so much backbone as they had done today. His assumption about the meaning of this day for a German soldier was probably nearer the truth than he had expected. Schultz raised his hands. "They celebrate our defeat, they celebrate their win and with it the death of our brothers. We cannot allow something like that."

"We just remember our veterans," Hogan said and bristled at the accusation. He had always been aware that Schultz and Klink were the enemy, but he had never felt so much enmity as now cursing through his blood stream. It threatened to overwhelm his common sense and sense of duty. "It's something you should appreciate," he continued, far calmer.

"You think I'm stupid?" Schultz glared at him. Then he faltered. For a short moment, he had the same confused expression on his face that Hogan had learned to associate with their own personal German sergeant. "You always think I'm stupid," he stated. But then his familiar face vanished and another expression, one full of hurt and pain, returned. "Or that I forgot what day it is? You want to remember only your veterans. We fought the same war, we died the same way, but we got home to misery, pain and hunger." He turns to Colonel Klink. "It's a disgrace to all our fallen comrades to allow such an activity. Not on the day of the armistice."

Suddenly Hogan understood why Schultz had already inspected their barracks even before dawn. "That's the reason you were bad-tempered all day."

Klink glanced to the far left without participating in the conversation. He seemed to have sunken in his own memories. For the first time Hogan realized that there was a depth to Klink and Schultz that he could never reach seeing as he hadn't fought in World War I.

Schultz turned his glare to Hogan. "You too would be in a bad mood if you had the memories I have. Never should there have been another war and yet here we are again." On his face, Hogan could easily detect the despair only a war could generate. He had seen it countless times back in London, etched on the faces of the soldiers home on furlough or who had been wounded. It was as if the war with all its fear and suffering was a carving tool, creating creatures only found in war times. The last war certainly had molded Schultz and, as he glanced to the commandant, also Klink.

"Schultz is right. I can't allow it," Klink said and shook himself out of his stupor. "There was enough injustice done to us."

Hogan opened his mouth. He wasn't above to threaten Klink with Hochstetter. He had a duty to his men and not the Germans. At the end of the day, they were his enemies.

Before he could voice his protest, Klink added a solution. "But Schultz has the rest of the day off. For your service in the last war, you deserve to have the day off to remember."

It was a compromise without giving allowance. Schultz opened his mouth and Hogan braced himself for more unnecessary fighting but then the sergeant closed his mouth and pressed his lips together. He gave a firm nod and turned on his heel, marching straight away without a detour or pause.

"So it's true," Hogan drawled as he glanced to Klink, "the armistice wasn't the end of a war? It was just a pause, waiting for everybody to regain power to try again?"

Klink shook his fist at him again, turned also on his heel and marched to his office.

For something that happened twenty-six years ago, it sure had still a lot of power. Hogan shook his head and trotted off to his men. He would give Klink some time to cool off before he went back to retrieve the flowers. Hopefully with a better hand for the new, never seen before, side of one Colonel Wilhelm Klink.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Hogan beckoned Kinch over. He hadn't been surprised that Corporal Langenscheidt had accepted his word, that Schultz' orders had been lifted and everybody could return to normal. His men hadn't needed a repeat to throw away their shovels and disappear in every direction.

"Everything alright?" Kinch hunkered down and hid his face from the cold wind.

"Your call was timely and worked. But we need to prepare for Hochstetter to return."

Solemnly Kinch nodded. "So the young man Klink hid had really escaped from Organization Todt."

Hogan recognized the name but the Nazis had so many new groups and organization, he needed a map to keep track all of them. "Organization Todt?"

"It's an organization for military engineering. They use prisoners, forced laborers and everybody else that doesn't fit their narrow ideal." Kinch crossed his arms. "Interesting for us is their résumé. For example, they were responsible for creating the Siegfried Line and the Atlantic Wall. If these men escaped from around here, it usually means that they are building a new underground facility."

Hogan pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn't even finished the first job as the second was knocking on his door. "Did you question him already?"

Kinch shock his head. "Schultz was pretty fast to summon us back to work and Wilson said that he was dangerously malnourished."

With an arch of his eyebrow, Hogan prompted his trusted right hand to continue.

"According to Wilson he wouldn't have survived much longer."

"Then I'll need to ask some questions fast."

Nodding, Kinch turned toward the barracks. His desire to get out of the cold was clearly visible in his hunched shoulders and tense body language.

But Hogan still had another important question. "A moment," he said.

Kinch stopped.

"Schultz has the rest of the day off, and we'll get back our flowers." Hogan said and glanced across the compound where Newkirk and Lebeau lingered in front of a barracks door, encircled by other French and English airmen. Then he focused on his voice of reason in a sea full of irrational yet highly emotional opinions. "How important is Armistice Day right now for our operation?" Kinch would have a better knowledge about the mood of the camp.

The first answer was a deep sigh. Followed by another sigh. Newkirk and LeBeau were slick, but they wouldn't have been able to get their order to London past the man sending it. He had helped them but now Hogan needed to know something different from him.

"Did you know that my uncle was killed in action in the Great War?"

Hogan blinked. That wasn't an answer, it wasn't even the beginning of one. But he trusted Kinch, and so he shock his head.

"He died somewhere in France." He looked down. Before Hogan could lose his patience he raised his head and continued. "My aunt was eligible to participate in the Gold Star Mothers Pilgrimage and traveled to Europe in 1931."

Hogan remembered the public discussion, mostly about money and seldom about the sacrifice that had accompanied the decision.

"She returned as a different woman," Kinch explained. "Did you know that the government stood by its segregation and used different ships, different hotels and segregated groups?"

The colonel nodded. There was no way around it. It was the truth.

"As I wanted to join up my mother sent me to her and said that whatever sacrifices I'll make it won't be worth it. But Aunt Millie didn't think like that. She said how much the trip to Europe had changed her - everything the American government did was segregated between them and the white mothers. But in Europe they didn't have different doors, they didn't have different train wagons, and they didn't bury the dead segregated."

Hogan listened trying to understand what Kinch was telling him while also keeping Newkirk and LeBeau with the other men in his line of view.

"For the first time she had realized that it didn't need to be like it was." Kinch pulled out his hands and rubbed them together. "War doesn't only change the people fighting it. It can also change a society. It overturned the governments in Russia, Germany and Austria." He shot Hogan a quick look. "And it changed something for my aunt far deeper than that she had become a widow."

"Kinch," Hogan began but didn't know how to continue. It seemed wrong to repeat his real question while Kinch finally told him something so private and important.

"What does it have to do with your question?" Kinch grinned. "We need this change - for the good or bad nobody is the same after a war. If we adhere to tradition and celebrate Remembrance Day not only we will remember but also the Germans have to remember and maybe they will draw now better conclusions from these memories."

Slowly, Hogan nodded. "You do remember that Hochstetter wanted to shoot me?"

Kinch's grin turned to a real smile. "And do you remember, sir, that Colonel Klink our personal coward, stepped between you and him?"

The voices around Newkirk and LeBeau got louder.

"The memories hurt but if we remember we can direct the conclusion. If we don't, we let the emotions, mostly hate and anger, rule."

Hogan clapped Kinch on the shoulder and turned to commandant's office. He needed the pouch sooner rather than later.

* * *

Hogan leaned against the side of the barracks with his arms crossed. After he had retrieved the pouch with the flowers, he had allowed and encourage every nation to celebrate Remembrance Day in its own way with only a strict order to stay indoors, playing it safe. It hadn't been on time, but he hoped that his men were willing to cut him some slack. He had pulled down his cap and turned up his collar. From his position he could see most of the barracks. Through his pulled down cap his men didn't felt like he was watching them, yet he could keep an eye on the celebrations. Several times he had watched how one of the men hurried out and walked away as fast as possible without running, their faces turned away.

Klink had given him the pouch without too much fuss, but he hadn't answered his question about the woman in his office except an introduction as his new secretary. And now the allegedly new secretary was watching the infirmary. Hogan didn't need higher education to recognize that she was the mother of the young man, Klink had hidden.

Carter came out with a content face. He had taken everything he needed from Remembrance Day. With a sigh, Hogan straightened and pushed away from the wooden wall. He beckoned Carter and together they went to the infirmary barracks. He needed to try to get some information before Klink dropped the act and allowed the mother to run interference. Carter needed to play translator again.

"How is he?" Hogan glanced to Wilson who had stayed for the two-minute silence and then went back to his infirmary.

On Wilson's face the whole range of emotions flickered across his experienced features. At the end, he settled on the bare facts. "Food and rest, and he has a real chance to heal again."

Hogan nodded in more than only thankfulness for the information but also because he had been spared a more detailed run-down.

"Don't tired him out."

The colonel acknowledged the advice with a short nod. It was a useless advice but necessary nonetheless. Carter followed him. From the last bed, the young man watched them approaching.

"How are you?" Hogan asked and waited until Carter had translated his words. Better to play it the long way than giving ammunition to a man needing bargain power over the Nazis.

"What do you want? Why did you help me? Where's Colonel Klink?"

Hogan kept his face blank until Carter had translated everything. Only then he allowed a small grin to appear on his face. "We did it for Colonel Klink, as a favor." He paused. "What's your name? I'm Colonel Robert Hogan and that's Sergeant Andrew Carter."

He had to fight off the grin as Carter translated dutifully the sentence without changing the pronouns. It sounded funny but it gave them a more friendly appearance and the young man cracked a smile.

"My name is Kurt Gold."

"How do you know Colonel Klink?"

His eyes darted around the room. Hogan didn't know if he tried to spot hidden spies or was looking for Colonel Klink.

"Come on, you can tell us. We're just prisoners and risked a lot to help you. To know who you are to Colonel Klink isn't asked too much, is it?"

Kurt Gold still hesitated. "Uncle Wilhelm is a friend of my father." It explained a lot even if Klink didn't strike Hogan as the man to be capable of a real friendship.

"Were you on the run for long before you have found Colonel Klink?" He asked with a soft voice.

"No, I-" The young man stopped. He narrowed his eyes. "Why are you asking?"

Hogan glanced to Carter. "We're just curious about the land."

Angrily, Gold pushed away the blanket. "You want to escape!"

It sounded like an accusation. "I'm pretty sure that you can understand the sentiment." Hogan kept the inappropriate joke to himself that everybody associated with Klink always feared an escape.

"But you want me to help you!"

Hogan stepped back, giving the distressed young man more room.

He fought to get up. "I won't help you. I am not going to help the enemy." He managed to push himself up on shakily legs. "I am a proud German!"

Carter started at him in wonder but Hogan crossed his arms. "If you are a proud German, just who kept you prisoner and starved you? And why?"

As if his strings were cut, the young man crumpled down. He hid his face behind his hands and started to cry. Silently but violently his shoulder shock.

Carter took a tiny step towards him. With a look to Hogan, Carter sat down besides Gold. As neither men objected he pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to Gold. "I also miss my home so much. I guess you do miss your home even more because you never left and yet it is gone." He paused and the shaking lessened. "I always think about the good times then and hope to return soon. Maybe you'll find your Germany again, after the war."

Gold stopped crying. He looked up with red-rimmed and teary eyes. "The Nazis. Because I don't fit into their worldview," he replied and answered the questions while looking Hogan straight in the eyes. "And we were working in an underground site twenty kilometers south where they are developing new rockets."

Carter remained silent and Hogan had to keep his face blank. He cleared his throat. "Oh yes," Carter said and translated the rest of the message. More work, more information for London, more pressure to help Klink to hide the young man. Hogan really couldn't complain about an insufficient amount of work.

* * *

Hogan leaned against his desk with crossed arms.

LeBeau was still wearing his _Bleuet de France_ as he slipped in behind Newkirk and Kinch. Carter was the last to arrive.

Newkirk and LeBeau looked more at peace and yet more emotional than he had ever seen them. Kinch hid every emotion behind his usual calm mask. After he had shared his story, Hogan was sure that this day was also special to him.

"We're back in business?" he asked and looked around his men, waiting for a confirmation that he had their undivided attention back. "We still have a lot of work to do. How's Major von Hofer?"

"Nothing much to report," Kinch replied and shrugged his shoulders. "He is one of the easiest guest we ever had. He gets a little restless but that's normal."

"If he shows his face, he will be shot," Newkirk added with a grin. "We are his best shot."

"We have an additional problem," Hogan said and pushed himself away from his desk. "Klink is hiding a forced laborer and Hochstetter will be soon enough back."

"The young man hasn't seen anything about our operation here," Kinch said. "We could help Klink to set something up without risking anything."

"You're right," Hogan agreed. "It shouldn't be too hard to talk Klink into a useful plan." He had already a few options in mind. Relaxing, he straightened up. "So, what about our German major? How to get him to London?"

Newkirk licked his lips. "How long do we have this setup? Shouldn't we have a backup plan by now?"

"Oui," LeBeau agreed. "We should have a backup plan for people we can't get to London to normal way."

"The last time we used a plane to fly her to London," Carter said.

Newkirk pointed his finger at LeBeau in recognition. "The baroness!" He grinned. "And we were allowed to knock out Crittendon."

Hogan crossed his arm. "Nobody had knocked out a group captain of the Royal Air Force." He smirked. "But accidents do happen and sometimes heavy tools fall down."

"But back then we had a plane," Kinch, always the practical thinker pointed out.

"We could blackmail Klink to get us a plane." LeBeau rubbed his hands together and the slick grin of anticipation on his face gave him a slightly manic expression. "We have enough material for blackmailing."

Hogan made a face. "We need Klink and that's the way to lose him."

With a shrug Newkirk said what most of them were thinking: "Then we won't get him out. We need to wait until everything has cooled down."

Still remembering the hint about the Ardennes, Hogan knew that this wasn't an option. "Or we need to build our own plane and fly him out."

The loud protests of his men were expected, but they weren't wrong. "We don't only need a plane and a runway but most importantly a pilot," Kinch summarized the main points after the storm had died down. "And Major von Hofer is a Wehrmacht officer. I doubt that he knows how to fly a plane. As long as we have this weather, London won't fly any mission and therefore we won't get a new escaped or downed pilot."

"But we have enough pilots in the camp already," Carter interposed.

"That we can't lose," Newkirk had to have the last word while he pulled out one of his smokes.

Hogan shot him a glare but that didn't make his statement less true. No plane, no runway, no pilot and with a sigh Hogan added to his mental list: no plan. But facts hadn't yet knocked him out of his stride and with a smirk he issued his new orders. "Let's start easy and find a blueprint - we'll simply build our own plane."

Apparently his plan was so outrageous - his men didn't even protest but stared at him in silence. Hogan took this as a win and strode out of his office with his head held high leaving them baffled behind.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Why can't you get him back?" Rosa asked for the umpteenth time. "You are the commandant." She stood near the window and stared outside, her finger tracing an unseen line across the glass.

Klink noted that she had made a statement and not a question, yet he felt the full impact of her words. "He is safer there than he is here."

"But I just bought him out of a prison camp and now -"

"I may be a harsh commandant, but I was always fair. He is safe over there." With a great burden on his shoulders, Klink shuffled to his chair and let himself fall into it. When, it wasn't a matter of if, Hochstetter returned he would search the camp again. He didn't know if Hogan would help him again.

"I'm sorry," Rosa said and stepped up beside him. Rubbing his shoulder, she apologized again. "I shouldn't have come here. We'll leave as soon as possible."

He patted her hand and stilled her movement. It was a tempting offer. If she was gone so would be his worry but Klink wanted to do better. "I wish I could help you. If I was a general I could -" Klink didn't know what he could do as a general, but he was sure that he could do something.

"This is helping." Her fingers dug into his shoulder with far more strength than he had expected from the hand of a woman. "I have lost hope for big help," she said and her warm hand left his shoulder. She still walked like a queen and hadn't lost any of her poise. Klink watched her walking back to the window. "I don't even know what real help would look like."

Klink looked away. He didn't need to follow her gaze to know it was directed at her son.

"But every little hand helps," she continued. "Everyone who offers a place to hide, some food to eat or who just doesn't report us," she tilted her head until their eyes met, "is helping. You are helping by not waiting until you know something to do."

He was the first to look away. He wanted to help more. But whenever he started to think about what he could do he could only think about what would happen to him if he was caught. He shivered. He wasn't really cold but the fear made him cold.

* * *

 _November 12, 1944_

Hogan glanced down on the blueprints and compiled a list of necessary materials in his head.

"London was fast," LeBeau said and slipped back into his uniform. The dark days of November with their late sunrise gave them plenty of time to get out and receive packages from London.

"They want the German major. Badly," Kinch said and closed the trap door behind him. With fast strikes he went to the coffee and took a cup. "Whatever we need to accomplish this is proceeded with uttermost urgency." He shot Hogan a quick glare. Nothing else was needed as Hogan already knew that they wanted to know more about the hint about the Ardennes. He didn't doubt that Major von Hofer was willing to tell them everything he knew. But Hogan didn't know how to ask about things von Hofer knew but didn't realize that he knew. He was more accustomed to make people spill secrets.

A loud knock against the side of the barracks signaled the arrival of unwanted guests, and they hurried to hide their current activities. By the time Hogan had fully turned around to face the door, Newkirk had already furled the blueprint.

Carter and the young man, Kurt Gold, came in. Hogan raised an eyebrow but Carter just shrugged. "Wilson said that walking around would help."

Most men in the camp pitied the young German but Carter went out of his way to actually help him by spending time with him. Hogan allowed it as it kept Gold busy and Carter near a source of information.

London had taken the new information about the underground facility with it usual aplomb and a sigh. They noted it for further investigation but started the next sentence with an inquiry about when they could expect von Hofer in London. They were running out of patience.

Gold nodded to Carter. "Oh, and he wants to apologize and say thank you," Carter stumbled on his words, "us - he wants to thank us for our help."

Having everything said translated by Carter made a conversation tiresome and complicated and so Hogan just nodded to show his acceptance.

Hogan turned around and signaled Newkirk to unroll the blueprint again. London had been clever enough to deliver it hidden in a box of a model aircraft. He could lose it to Sergeant Schultz if he repeated his inspection but there wouldn't be any other consequences. Together they studied the blueprint while their guest warmed his hands near the shove.

"Even if we get by some harebrained scheme all the necessary materials," Newkirk said, "we won't get an engine."

Hogan bit his lips. There were days he could use a little more enthusiasm from his men. "Why so demotivated? We should start with whatever we'll get." Their whole operation had started with a vision and hard work, and they had been really successful so far. It wasn't their time to fail yet.

"Are you building a plane?" Gold leaned forward to glance at the blueprint.

Hogan straightened while Carter translated as fast as possible. "Yes."

"Why don't you build a glider? It's easier and you won't need an engine, so it's almost silent."

The colonel didn't know whether the young German talked about a model aircraft or a real one. The former shouldn't ever have an engine the latter would mean that he was willing to help the self-claimed enemy. He gave him a questioning glare. "A glider?"

"Yes," he nodded and a small smile gave his sunken face a more normal appearance. "A sail-plane glider doesn't need an engine."

Hogan glanced to his men. But he found his own question reflected on their faces.

"Did you ever read the Treaty of Versailles?" Gold continued. "It forbade Germany to have any planes with engines. But my father is a pilot - you can take away his plane but not his love for flying or his ability to pilot a plane. They just built themselves planes that you could fly without an engine."

Fighting hard to keep the superior grin from his face, Hogan waited until Carter had translated everything. The air vibrated with new energy.

"How far can you fly with such a glider?" If it was far enough, then maybe they could have London sending a plane to fetch von Hofer from far outside of the camp.

"With the right weather conditions," the young man made a face as he thought about his answer, "several hundreds kilometers."

"You're kidding!" Newkirk declared before Carter had finished his translation but Gold didn't seem to notice.

Instead, a real smile blossomed on his face. "No, I still remember the first time my father has flown so far. He even took me with him once."

Hogan shared a look with Kinch. It was the first time that the Treaty of Versailles brought them something good. "Can you fly a glider?" He asked full of hope.

"Sure, my father has taught me."

Snapping his fingers, Hogan mouthed to Kinch an order. But his radio man had already pulled out his scratchpad and written down his newest list of inquiries. He held it out for Hogan to read: "London - weather reports - the nearest front line - safe way to cross it."

"Can you build one?" Newkirk asked in the meantime while Hogan nodded his agreement for Kinch's plan.

"No," Gold shock his head and destroyed therefore the jubilant mood. "My father and his friends, they had constructed and build them. I only know that you can't just nail some wood together, not if you want to fly further than three meters."

Thinking it over for a moment, Hogan dared to ask the most important question. "Assuming we build one, would you fly it?"

The young German snorted. "I'm not going to fly away. I'm going to stay with my mother, we need to stick together. Besides," he added after Carter had translated everything so far, "you won't get it off the ground without the right equipment."

Leaving destroyed hope behind, Gold and Carter shuffled off again.

"And now what?" LeBeau asked.

Hogan rubbed at his chin. He wasn't deterred, not by a long shot. "Now, I finally know where we'll get a plane from."

* * *

 _November 13, 1944_

Hogan sneaked through the darkness. It was risky to go out while Hochstetter could return any moment but some conversation Hogan had to do himself. He hurried through the forest. The only source of light was the moon enlightening the dark environment. The air smelled damp and moldy. He had learned that this was normal for these parts of the world that had a wet and gray autumn.

On the road to Hammelburg his contact was already waiting for him. Looking right and left, he jumped into the veterinarian's car. Oscar Schnitzer wasn't a man of many words, and so he nodded his greeting. He drove as fast as he dared in the darkness.

Just short of a sharp corner, he turned left into an almost overgrown trail. The car shock as they drove across the uneven ground. Then Schnitzer cut the lights and drove even further into the darkness.

Hogan pressed himself into the seat trying not to hit his head or any other vital body part. It was one of the reason he had become a pilot and not co-pilot - he preferred to drive himself.

Finally, Schnitzer stopped and killed the engine. In the silence Hogan could hear his own heartbeat.

"What is so important that we need to talk in person?" Schnitzer whispered. "What couldn't wait until the next time we would see each other?"

Peering into the black of the night, Hogan couldn't make out any threat that warranted to keep quiet, and yet he also lowered his voice. "Do you know where we could get a two-seat glider?"

He felt the man beside him pausing. The seat cracked a little as he shifted. "There are several ones in some bay yarns around here, a lot of the former pilots continued to fly and it became a hobby."

Hogan grinned even if nobody could see it. "Great, we need one."

"Colonel Hogan, I know that you are a pilot and have pilots at your disposal but flying a glider isn't -" Schnitzer apparently felt comfortable enough to argue.

"I have a seasoned pilot," Hogan explained. "What I need is a glider and a way to get it off the ground."

Schnitzer drummed on the steering wheel with his fingers. The even rhythm was for a long moment the only sound until finally the wildlife took up its own orchestra again.

Hogan waited. Not patiently but he needed to wait.

"Maybe Heinrich can help. He had been working at an improvised airstrip back then before the war. He could know where we could get some bungees."

"Bungees?"

"Elastic ropes to launch a glider," Schnitzer explained. "Are you sure you have a pilot?"

"Yes," Hogan retorted. The young man didn't know it yet, but he was their pilot.

"Do you need it -" Schnitzer hesitated. "Do you need it to get Major von Hofer to London?"

Hogan shouldn't be surprised that their veterinarian knew about the man but it was unwelcome news nonetheless. "Yes."

"You need to hurry up and get him out. The rumors won't be ignored by the gestapo for long."

No pressure, Hogan sighed. "I'm working on it," he said. "That's the reason we need as fast as possible a glider."

"We could take it apart and send it to your stalag as delivery of firewood for the coming winter. That's the fasted way as we could work in broad daylight and didn't need to smuggle it down into your tunnels. But you need to take it before it is actually burnt."

Hogan's eyes had gradually become adjusted to the darkness. He could just make out Schnitzer silhouette and how he peered through the windshield. "I'll make sure that we'll take it."

Schnitzer nodded. "Who would have thought that the Treaty of Versailles would be good for something."

"Except being the treaty that ended the last war, why does every German talk about it?" Hogan asked, exaggerated. After days of always hearing about it, Hogan was curious.

"It blames us for starting the war as if we were the only ones," Schnitzer said while he tilted his head slightly towards Hogan. "Hadn't Great Britain armed itself and hadn't Russia started with the mobilization?"

"Germany had started and lost the war." Hogan shrugged. "Period." He had a better knowledge about the tactics and the battles then the big political picture. "You know the saying that the winner writes the history. I guess the Treaty of Versailles reflects that piece of truth."

"I know, Colonel Hogan, I know because Hitler is trying to do exactly this - writing the history anew by winning this war." Schnitzer snorted. "In Germany we call it a Diktat and not a Treaty because it was either sign it or get invaded. Nobody thought the Treaty was just or fair. Even our chancellor resigned rather than signing it. "

"And yet you're here, in the darkness and helping us, the enemy," Hogan said.

"I don't help the enemy." Schnitzer returned his gaze to the windshield. "I help my people. Nobody in Germany believes that the Treaty of Versailles was fair, but we differed in our opinions how to deal with that." He paused as if he needed to contemplate what he wanted to tell Hogan.

Hogan knew that he was needed back in camp, but he also had learned the hard way the last few days that the past had a lot of influence on the future if you weren't careful. So, he waited.

"We, the social democrats, we believed that with time we would be able to change the treaty, add new articles and lessen the sum of the reparations that crippled our economy. And we achieved a lot in the years of the Weimar Repulic. Great Britain and France, they had their own aims, but we were able to act brotherly trying to create a Europa that would never go to war again.

"But there was always the other side - the one who didn't want to change the treaty but to nullify it. The side who wanted all or nothing. They didn't believe in win-win where everybody would get something and give something - they wanted all, and they needed desperately that everybody else was losing. In their mind there was either win-lose for them or lose-lose." Schnitzer stopped talking. In the pale moonlight, Hogan could see the white of his eyes, staring into the darkness. One darkness was the night in Hammelburg, but the other darkness was the evil surrounding his people.

"Why didn't you stop them? Back then 1933 before we were involved? You could have prevented it. All of this." Hogan would have never needed to go to war. The men he had seen killed, dying and suffering - none of this had had to happen if they had just stopped Hitler and his men.

"We tried. The social democrats tried. We really did. We voted against Hitler and as a thank-you, the SS and SA were standing with their machine guns and goon squads in front of our offices and arrested everybody. You either were sent to jail or agreed to stop being politically active. So, we went to the underground." Schnitzer sighed.

Hogan was silent, still fighting the urge to accuse him of failing. Germany had sent the whole world into a war just because they didn't want to face that they had lost the last one.

Schnitzer seemed to guess his thoughts though. Without further words, he started his truck and drove the same way back.

As they reached the road near the camp, Schnitzer stopped again to let Hogan out. With his hand on the car door, Hogan hesitated for a moment. "I don't know if Germany is solely to blame for the last war," he said, "but this war - I know is solely Germany's fault. Nobody else wanted it."

Schnitzer stared straight ahead. "I know," he whispered. Then he looked over. "I'll get you the sail-plane. Just be sure to intercept the delivery."

Hogan nodded and closed the door. He disappeared into the black night, back to his POW camp. Fighting a war that should never have been started.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 _November 14, 1944_

Hogan leaned against the outer wall of Klink's office and peeked through the window. Then he gave the signal. Immediately, his men in the front yard started to argue on top of their voices.

"You left the hole in the ground," Newkirk accused Kinch. "And now my mate has most likely broken his leg. And foot! And ankle!"

LeBeau was rolling on the ground and made pitiful noises. Why he had never used him to play hurt before, Hogan didn't know because LeBeau was brilliantly convincing in his act.

"Me?" Kinch shifted into a ready-to-fight position. "You threw away your shovels. It may have been Carter." He pointed to Carter with his thumb, who joined the fight.

Hogan had to bite back a laugh. If they wouldn't be prisoners they could take up a career as actors.

"What is going on here!" Klink appeared on the top of the stairs. "Stop!" He hurried to the fighting without glancing to his left where Hogan had waited.

Slipping into the office behind the unsuspecting German colonel, Hogan closed the door behind him. Helga looked up from her work. "You have no idea how happy I am that you're still our secretary."

Her laughter filled the room and Hogan stopped on his way to Klink's office to give her a peck on the cheek. There's got to be time for that.

"Why are you so happy?"

"Oh, word on the street was that you were being replaced." Hogan glanced to the door. Klink's reaction wasn't as dependable as usual anymore. So, he needed to hurry.

"If you mean the commandant's lady friend, then no. She has not touched my desk." She shuddered. "I really don't want to spend as much time as I had to reorder everything after Mrs. Linkmeyer had overtaken my job. She only ruled this office for two days, but I couldn't find anything for two weeks."

Hogan grinned. "I need to talk to Klink's friend for a moment. Do you mind?"

Helga sighed and gave him a look that reminded him of his math teacher back in school. Then she closed her eyes and started to count.

Giving her another peck on the cheek, Hogan whispered his thanks and hurried to his real job.

As expected the woman startled badly as Hogan rushed into the room and closed the door behind him. "We need to talk," he said instead of an introduction.

"I know, Colonel Hogan," she answered in heavenly accented but understandable English.

Surprised, Hogan faltered in his rushed motions. "You know my name?"

She faced him. With folded hands resting in front of her, she projected the perfect image of a woman nothing could faze. "I do and I even speak English. Did you not know this? We had a lot of guests as I was a child. You needed to learn English back then."

Hogan could just take a guess and assume she was born and grew up in one of the former German colonies. But this wasn't his job right now.

"How's my son?"

"He's fine," he assured her and accepted the confirmation about his assumption. "I have a proposal for you."

"What kind of proposal?"

With a woman of her distinction, Hogan needed to be blunt, or he would get nowhere. "He needs to disappear before Major Hochstetter returns. I doubt that we will be able to fool him again."

"I know." She took a deep breath and slowly breathed out. "I'm already making preparations."

Hogan glanced to the door, checking that they were still alone, before he continued. "We need his help and as a payment we would take him with us."

"You plan an escape?"

He screwed up his face. "Not exactly."

She studied him but her face was giving nothing away about her conclusions.

Suddenly, the door opened and Klink rushed in. "The things I have to deal with - you wouldn't-" He had almost reached his chair as he saw Hogan. His eyes widened, and he stretched out his hand to point with his index finger at him. "Hogan!"

"I wanted to congratulate you to your friends in Berlin. Or how did you prevent Major Hochstetter from returning?"

The angers on Klink's face vanished instantly and was replaced by fear. "What are you doing here," he repeated, his voice almost toneless.

"Wilhelm, why don't you check up on your men? I'm sure that they could use a little guidance from an experienced officer like you are?" She spoke with grace and a highly held head. "Colonel Hogan will be gone by the time you get back."

Like a fish, Klink opened and closed his mouth several times. Hogan had to hand it to her - she knew how to deal with Klink. Finally, he grabbed his cap and left the office. The door was slammed shut, leaving them waiting silently.

"He wants to help me. That's the reason he went to you, Colonel Hogan," she explained without judgment.

Hogan nodded. She was capable of manipulating him but only seemed to use it if necessary.

"And if you find a little empathy for him in your heart, you can tell him that he did - he helped me."

Taking a paper out of his pocket, Hogan made a show of checking a list. "No, sorry. I'm fresh out of empathy for the enemy."

She nodded, her lips forming a small line. "I thought as much."

Tilting his head, Hogan waited while he watched her.

"With refusing to have empathy it starts - the looking away, the finding of excuses and in the end - you have lost your way. The moment you need to make an excuse is the moment you knew that it was wrong but choose to look the other way and ignore it." She stepped to the window. "I have seen it countless times." Turning to face him, she sighed. "I'm not sure if I should entrust you my son if you can't feel any empathy anymore."

Hogan crossed his arms. "I can feel empathy for your son just fine. It's Klink I have some trouble."

"Klink? Or all the German that don't suffer at the hands of the Nazis?" She challenged him.

Her face a calm mask despite her hard words. She really was used to host formal dinners. If he wouldn't need her help to get a pilot, he would leave the room right away. But he stayed. "Klink is enough for the start," he answered. "But you seem to have a lot of empathy for the people trying to kill you?"

"Oh, they don't want to kill me," she made a sound that almost resembled a laugh, but he couldn't see any happiness in her eyes. "Punish me? Yes definitely, but they're after my husband and my son."

"Mixed marriage," Hogan whispered and suddenly a lot of things made sense. "Why didn't you file for a divorce?"

In her scathing glare Hogan had to fight the urge to step back.

"Love. Hope and the firm belief they couldn't sink so low." She shook her head. "I was naive but I also had friends, my husband had friends. Maybe I thought we would be okay until they returned to their senses." She lowered her gaze, her finger held so tightly that her fingertips were white.

"If your son helps us, you can help to shorten the war." Hogan hadn't anything else to offer.

"You mean, we can help to end the fighting? Didn't the last armistice taught us that laying down your arms just means that you can pick them up again?" Finally, she left her perfect posture and crossed her arms. "This war won't be finished after the fighting has stopped."

Hogan shook his head and rubbed across his forehead. He couldn't send all of them to London but if she also had new information he had to continue this conversation.

"I'm not talking about a war that affects your army," she reassured him. "I'm talking about the war between right and wrong, good and evil. After the fighting has stopped, there won't be anyway to run - they, my people have to face what they have done and what they have become. The fight will go on."

Hogan scowled. "I'm pretty sure that they know already."

"You're wrong. The Germans prefer to hid in busy-work, in doing things that are necessary and if all else fail - in entertainment. Despite your bombings, our theaters and cinemas are open. Our zoo is open to mingle around. But afterwards they are going to realize what they have done and I don't know how they will be able to live with this guilt."

"What did they do?" He didn't have the impression that she was talking about the cruelties of war or how the German soldiers had bombed London, destroyed everything that seemed to cross them. She wouldn't know about the French villages, the shootings and the killings. She had to talk about something else.

"They believed Hitler, a liar, because they wanted. He just said what they wanted to hear - it's not your fault, it's them. They, the ominous 'they' - 'they' take away your jobs and women. He had promised them to reestablish Germany to the greatness it deserves - restore their rightfully place in the world. He just needed to say a few words and the rest happened in their minds and their dreams. They wanted it so badly, so badly that they threw caution and all warnings in the wind. You know what the worst is," she asked but didn't wait for Hogan to answer, "that he did. He delivered what he had promised, and so they forgot to ask what price they were paying. They sacrificed their humanity for this dream. And I fear what happens when they wake up."

"Why don't they wake up now? Every day and night we send wake up calls to them. They can see it in the burning cities. We send broadcasts and fliers." Hogan clenched his teeth. "Why don't they wake up and retake the power?"

Rosa Gold looked away. It took Hogan a moment until he realized that her averted gaze was a sign of deep sorrow.

"Just how often did you try to make them see?"

Her eyes glinted and she bit on her lower lip. "They don't want to see. If they look in the mirror and accept that it was their own desire that lead to this catastrophe, they also need to accept the fact that they believed a liar. It's easier to believe it's the fault of the Allies, the Jews, the socialists, the Gypsies, the disabled, the weak, the sick or the honorable. It's easier to believe that there's a wunderwaffe than owing up your own mistakes."

He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. "Are you going to help us?" he asked while he went to the door. Almost all of his questions had been answered. There was nothing left for him to find in this conversation. His fingers enclosed the doorknob while he waited.

"I'll talk to Kurt," she said. "But, please, Colonel do yourself and your people a favor and relearn to have empathy for your enemy for it makes you better man."

Hogan swallowed hard. Without turning, he opened the door and closed it behind him without acknowledging her last words. The door banged as it hit the frame.

* * *

Hogan watched the teary reunion between mother and son. He wished he could forget her last words, but they replayed over and over in his head.

He was still busy thinking about their own battles, but he couldn't deny it. With the success of Operation Overlord and the landing in the Normandy on D-Day, it was only a matter of time until they had won. What he did now would have a bearing on the time after the war. Hogan crossed his arms. The Armistice Day had done a number on him if he couldn't keep his focus. In a way, it was exactly what Remembrance Day was supposed to be. Thinking about the past to act better in the future.

Finally, Mrs. Gold gave her son a kiss on the forehead and went back to the commandant's office without looking back even once. Kurt Gold kept watching her until she had closed the door behind her. Only then he trotted across the compound.

Hogan straightened. He had stopped pretending that he couldn't understand and speak German. He just made sure to use a heavy-accent to disguise his real ability to speak German.

"I can fly a sail-glider, but I am not a seasoned pilot," he said, foregoing a greeting.

"We know. But you only need to reach the nearest front line and cross it."

His dark hair was cut short, giving him a real look of a prisoner and highlighting his gaunt features. "What about my father?"

Hogan had tried but London didn't seem to know anything, or they were hiding behind a carefully used word 'rumor'. For him it had sounded more like that they knew exactly where Jacob Gold could be but chose to hope that it wouldn't be true. In this fight, he couldn't help Rosa Gold one bit. He raised his eyebrows while his lips formed a small smile. "Your mother got you out. I don't think that she's going to leave your father behind."

The truth of Hogan's words was reflected in the way the young man lowered his head. "They were our people," he whispered. "And suddenly the men my father hated the most," his gaze flickered across Hogan's American uniform, "are the better men."

There wasn't anything to say.

Kinch's timely arrival helped to steer the conversation on safer grounds. "We are cleared for the plan," he reported. He glanced to the young man and then back to Hogan.

Sighing, Hogan knew that he had to ask now or risk his mission later. "We offer you a deal - you'll fly the glider with a German major who had participated in the assassination attempt to the nearest front line and from there we'll get you to London. There you'll be safe."

The young man worked his jaw. "What about my mother? About uncle Wilhelm?"

"About Colonel Klink, you don't need to worry. We'll keep an eye on him. His help has always been invaluable."

"How valuable is this service to you?"

Hogan shot Kinch a sideways glare before he focused on Kurt Gold again. "What do you want?"

"My mother had used our last savings to get me out of there. She had bribed lawyers, guards and other officials. Now we don't -"

"We'll take care of it," Hogan promised before Kurt Gold could think of more. That would be easy. Money he could get, as long as he didn't ask for more help everything was good. He turned away. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Kinch hesitating.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Kinch asked.

The young man paused. Then he shrugged.

Kinch rubbed across his chin. He opened his mouth and closed it again before he actually asked his question. "Are the Germans vicious?"

Hogan's steps faltered. Now he needed to stay in hearing range. Depending on the answer he had to intervene. As long as they had their headquarter in a German POW camp, they needed to be able to live with Germans. Yet, he could understand why Kinch asked. For him at was far more than a tactical question about their upcoming mission. Hogan knew that for him it was a fundamental question of a society that locked other people out, disregarded them and where even the good people were silent.

Kurt Gold snorted. "Even the Germans that were against Hitler, didn't help us." Then he sighed, a deep crease on his forehead. "No, the Germans aren't vicious," the young man slowly shock his head, "they're just dreadfully indifferent."

Hogan looked away and moved further along his way. Kurt and his mother, they both were right. You didn't need to be vicious to do evil - just a lack of empathy and a lot of indifference was enough.

In the west, the last sun-rays disappeared behind the trees announcing the arrival of the night.

* * *

Klink tried to focus his tired eyes on the paperwork in front of him. It wasn't that he refused to go to bed. Instead, he spent enough hours there but sleep proved to be out of his reach. He was only lying awake, trying to find a solution while every little sound startled him. He didn't know how long his heart would continue to take this stress.

A loud knock against the door sent Klink's heart on another fast track. "What?" He stuttered and watched the door. His breaths were coming short and fast.

"Herr Kommandant," Schultz' heavy form walked in. "I'll need a signature from you."

Klink collapsed at his desk. No gestapo, only Schultz. He rubbed across his forehead not finding the expected sweat. But at least his hands felt as cold as he had assumed.

"Are you not feeling well, Herr Kommandant?" His sergeant inquired. "Do you wish me to inform your lady friend?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

Shaking his head, Klink forced himself to sit straight up. "What do you want? I'm busy."

Blinking, Schultz didn't seem to take offense at the sudden change of topic. "Well, there is a truck outside and the driver says he has a delivery of firewood for our camp."

Klink narrowed his eyes. "You bother me about a delivery truck? Do I have to do everything myself in this camp?"

Schultz formed an O with his mouth. Before he had recovered, Klink continued to voice his pent-up frustration. "Is it too much to ask that for once everybody does exactly what he is supposed to do? Prisoners remain prisoners, an enemy remains an enemy, and the good guys stay the -" Klink's anger deflated, and he sank down. Nothing was easy anymore.

"Herr Kommandant?" Schultz still stood in front of his desk.

Making a dismissing motion, Klink rose. He grabbed his coat and cap and went outside to sign some papers for a useless delivery.

Outside, Colonel Hogan greeted him from the distance. He signed the papers and inspected the wood. It seemed hulking and misshapen, far too good to be used as firewood. But that was war. Even fine work was burnt down. Better to use it to generate warmth than watch it being destroyed in a bombing raid. Klink touched the smooth surface. "Too bad," he murmured.

Turning on his heels, he marched back leaving Schultz to deal with the unloading. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Hogan and his men coming over. They would help Schultz.

If just an enemy, would stay an enemy.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

 _November 15, 1944_

Hogan followed the flickering light to the dead-end tunnel that was used as a guest quarters for Major von Hofer. The reports that he was getting nervous, piled up and it was time for Hogan to have a word with him.

"Major," he said in greeting. "I hope you are not afraid of flying because we have a way to get you out of Germany."

"That involves flying?" von Hofer asked and sat up on his cot. "As long as I don't need to fly I'll do whatever it takes to get out."

Hogan nodded. "Explain something to me," he said, "why didn't you stop Hitler before it got to the point that you had to choose an assassination?"

Von Hofer crossed his arms. His face half-hidden in the shadows, he tried his best to not show a reaction. "For the most part, Hitler did what was the best for Germany."

Somehow Hogan wasn't surprised. "And what was the best?"

"Nullify the Treaty of Versailles," he said without hesitation. "The remilitarization of the Rhineland and the Anschluss and last but not least he got back all the other parts that belong to Germany. The Dictate of Versailles stole all of this from us."

Hogan snorted. "You do realize that the Treaty of Versailles that you call unjust and unfair was far better than what you had offered Russia in the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk? If you want something unjust, you just have to read that treaty." A treaty that had soured the relationship between the western Allies and the new Soviet Union. The mistrust it sowed still crippling the relationship between the Allies in this war.

The major lowered his head.

It took Hogan a moment until he recognized the emotion behind it. "You knew it but it was easier to be the victim, right?"

"Colonel Hogan," Major von Hofer rose to his feet and squared his shoulders. "Without your great America we wouldn't have had Hitler."

Hogan's eyes became small slits. "What?" He asked in a dangerously low voice. He had already learned that they liked to pass the responsibility and shift it upon somebody else but this was a new one.

Von Hofer tried to strengthen his own words by nodding his own agreement. "All the different powers in Germany held the balance until your Black Friday crashed our economy. And with nothing to eat people believe everything." The German major started to pace. "And do you know what's the best part?" he raised his eyebrows. "The crash of your economy only happened because you tried to squeeze every little profit out of the World War I. It was your greed for profiting from the war that overheated your economy and as its crashing lead directly to the next war."

Hogan balled his fist. "Your facts may be true but your conclusion is wrong. You and your people choose the evil - plain and simple. You wanted to believe the lies and betrayed everything that once was holy and replaced it with your new ideology about superiority and a right to own something. If powers are only balanced by the stability of the economy, then it's always a little shake-up away from crumbling down. It's not the fault of a failing economy if people then chose the wrong side."

"We tried to stop him," he said hotly. "We tried to stop him by doing the very thing we despise - becoming traitors to save our fatherland."

"You acted too late!"

Sergeant Olsen drifted nearer. "Everything okay, sir? I could hear you in the radio room."

Hogan forced his tense shoulder to relax. Olsen had told him to keep his voice down without ever saying something alone these lines. He gave von Hofer a short nod, accepting just how far he had been willing to go to stop Hitler. It was unthinkable for a soldier to take out his commander-in-chief, and yet these men had tried to do exactly this.

"We failed. I should have done the same thing as everybody else." With hanging shoulders, the German major sat back down. "I should have never promised."

"Promised what?"

He looked up with tired eyes and his mouth was a small line. "What does an honorable soldier do if he failed?"

"Rise and try again," Hogan answered despite knowing what von Hofer had meant. He sighed. "So, why didn't you commit suicide?"

"One of us had to stay alive to tell our side of the story in case -" He broke off and looked away.

Hogan could finish the sentence with ease. "In case Hitler is the winner and writes the history." He took a deep breath. "That won't happen. As long as there are people willing to stand up against the evil, Hitler won't succeed."

"What is evil? Isn't it wrong to bomb our cities, our women and children to break our will to fight?" He challenged Hogan. "It is war. Neither you nor we are without fault."

"You know what's the difference? What we did before the war and what we try to do while being at war. So, tell me, what could a young man whose father is a Jew do to save his life?"

The major didn't say anything.

"And what would you need to do to stop the bombing?"

"Ask for an armistice," von Hofer said.

Hogan leaned back. "Your so-called November criminals were the best that could have happened to Germany. And whoever asked you to live instead of killing yourself, did also your people a big favor. Because the winner may write the history but the survivors tell the story and you need to go out and tell the story about the difference between wrong and evil, about the difference between fault and responsibility. Not all of Germany is responsible but you're all at fault - by seeing nothing, hearing nothing and most of all doing nothing."

"We tried and we paid a high price."

Hogan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. They had realized the wrong of their ways, or maybe Hitler had been finally just too extreme for them. But it had been too late. They had waited too long, they had looked away too long. He turned away. "I'll send for you when we're ready."

* * *

"Colonel," LeBeau rushed into his office, "Major Hochstetter. He's back." His voice was breathless and the impending danger was written all over his face.

Hogan dropped his pencil, grabbed his jacket and cap and ran out. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Newkirk already herding the young Kurt Gold into barracks seven. If all else failed, he was under orders to take him down into the tunnel. Showing him the tunnels was stretching his loyalty and Hogan wanted to avoid it. But he also needed Klink alive and he preferred to stay alive, too.

Slowing his steps until he didn't seem worried or rushed anymore, Hogan still beat Colonel Klink and reached the gestapo major in time.

"Major Hochstetter. Fancy meeting here," he greeted him. "I didn't know you would come or I would have cleaned up a bit."

The gestapo major just growled at him.

"Oh, I guess it didn't go well in Berlin?" He said and showed his best compassionate expression.

"Major Hochstetter, what a pleasure!" Klink hurried down the steps, almost missing the last one and tripped. Despite the cold, he just carried his coat under his arm.

"Klink!" Hochstetter's hand shot out to stabilize the stumbling Colonel. "When I was here the last time, do you remember what happened?"

"You didn't find anything," Klink stammered and the guilt blinked on his face like the neon signs on the Broadway.

Hochstetter tried something new and moved the corners of his mouth to something resembling a smile. "What did happen before I went away?"

Klink shivered in the cold. "You ... you ..."

"Got a call?" Hogan offered while he put his hands into his pockets. He almost expected another eruption of Hochstetter's famous anger, but he acted unusually benignly.

"Right. I received a call. Do you remember that, Colonel Klink?"

Klink nodded. "The men you were looking for had been apprehended."

"Yes," Hochstetter hissed, "now did you write a report about it?"

Out of the corner of his eyes, Hogan saw LeBeau lingering in front of barracks seven, ready to disappear inside and hide Kurt Gold. Almost invisible, Hogan shook his head. Something had happened that had clipped Hochstetter's claws.

"Report?"

Suddenly it clicked. "Let me guess, major, Berlin doubts that you have received such a call? You can't present them your missing prisoners and now they're looking for somebody to blame." He grinned. "I'm sure that Colonel Klink is more than willing to vouch for you - seeing as you're always so nice to him."

His scowl was a welcome sign of the old Hochstetter. He growled. "Colonel Klink, didn't you forget something?"

"Forget?" Klink repeated single words as a question, looking from Hochstetter to Hogan and back.

"About that," Hogan said, "I was just on my way to the commandant to complain about his punishment. It is unfair and unjust."

"What punishment?" Klink was going to get whiplash from all the looking between Hogan and Hochstetter.

"Oh yes, it is inhumane and cruel." He leaned forward to face Hochstetter. "He actually expects us to paint the firewood with the same insignia as used by your combat planes. The Geneva Convention -"

Hochstetter's scowled turned into a sneer. "Why are you complaining? Haven't you realized yet that we are winning this war and that everything is going to be ruled by our insignia?"

Hogan smirked. "But we neither have the paint nor the pattern to paint your national emblem, so we can't do anything like that." He crossed his arms.

"But Colonel Hogan, that's absolutely no problem." Hochstetter pushed Klink out of his way and went straight to the phone.

"Colonel Hogan!" Klink whispered. "We -"

"I have to give it to you, Colonel Klink. You really know how to divert Hochstetter's attention. It's always a pleasure to watch you work." He made a frustrated motion with his hand. "If I'd just had for once the ability to plan as good as you I'd have already escaped. But your foresight to sent your lady friend back to the hotel ... brilliant. And now Major Hochstetter is already helping you. Amazing."

Klink froze. He furrowed his brows and then nodded. But the doubt on his face never really vanished. His eyes lingered longer than normal on him. It seemed almost as if he realized that he was being mocked.

Keeping his face blank, Hogan waited for Hochstetter and Klink to give him everything he needed to have a successful flight. Finally, something went right for him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 _November 16, 1944_

The Hauserhof was as brightly lit as the last time Klink had been there. But this time it seemed more glaring and hurt his eyes. After Rosa had left the camp and returned to the hotel, Klink had not seen her. So her invitation, especially early in the day, had come as a complete surprise. A little excited, he entered the hotel.

She was waiting for him in the foyer. "Rosa, what is so important that I have to leave immediately?"

She planted herself in front of him. "Why don't you help me? I have just asked you to help me find my son and husband." Poking him with an accusatory glare, she continued. "But you refuse to help your old comrade and didn't even let me stay."

"Rosa," he stammered, "what are you-"

The men and women in the lobby glanced their way and Klink realized that he would be the talk of the town for at least a week.

"You should just get lost. I don't want to see you again." She stepped towards him, and it seemed threatening. Drawing him near into a hug, he felt how she put something in his pocket.

"I need to go now, Wilhelm," she whispered in his ear. "Thank you for everything."

"Rosa," he pushed her away, "I don't understand, what -"

"You didn't help me. You refused to help me because you'd rather died for the glorious Third Reich." Almost at will, sobs shocked her body. "I had thought you were our friend."

Klink stood dumbfounded next to her. "What about Kurt?"

With teary eyes, she looked up. "Don't worry about him. His welfare doesn't concern you anymore." Her voice was neither the solemn whisper nor the vicious screech, she just sounded tired. Without another word, she marched forward and away, forcing Klink to step aside.

The people watching the scene suddenly averted their gaze but Colonel Klink fled nevertheless back to the safety of his car.

"Back to camp!" he ordered after he had closed the door. Without asking questions, Corporal Langenscheidt started the car, and they drove off. Klink stared through the window to the hotel. He couldn't believe what he had heard.

Then he remembered the piece of paper that Rosa had put into his pocket. For a moment he was tempted to ignore it, but his curiosity got the better of him. Pulling out the paper, he recognized Rosa's handwriting. She wrote as elegantly as she dressed.

"Dear Wilhelm," he read silently, "I'm so sorry that I had to make you such a scene but now I am sure that nobody can touch you. You now have a whole lobby of witnesses to vouch for you that you didn't help me. I appreciate everything you did for me and my son and if I can ask for one last favor - please open your eyes as you need to see what is happening around you before it's too late for you."

The letter was signed with love by Rosa.

He crumbled the paper in his fist. She had shown him a last act of friendship, and he hadn't even been able to help her husband, his friend Jacob. He hadn't been there to help Jacob as he had needed him the most.

Afraid to return to the hotel as long as he had the paper, Klink allowed the car to travel further down the road.

* * *

"How's the weather?" Hogan looked to Kinch who was climbing out of the tunnel.

"Perfect," he reported and closed the trap door by hitting the bed.

Hogan turned to Newkirk. "What about the bungees and the crew?"

"We're ready to start. Good 'le Schultz really believes we're playing a new variation of tug-of-war." Newkirk played with his cards. He would only get up when they were really starting.

"How's the glider?"

"I'd like more time to study its design," Kinch said, "but we put everything back together as Schnitzer's friend has told us."

"Carter?"

Carter looked up like a deer caught in the light. "Oh, yes, Kurt is ready."

That only left one. "LeBeau?"

"Oui, one apfelstrudel for Schultz is coming up." The aroma of the freshly baked apfelstrudel enveloped the whole room. The delicious smell brought back sweet memories about the season from a long time ago.

"Well then, let's go!" Like a well oiled machine, his men darted out of the barracks and started their task. He went down in the tunnel to get the major.

"It's time?"

Hogan nodded while von Hofer grabbed his few belongings. On the way up, Major von Hofer paused and turned to him. "I'm sorry that you have to fight this war but I'm glad that somebody is willing to continue the fight."

"I won't let them ever go unchallenged," Hogan promised.

"There's something else you should know. There were rumors about the camps and actions in the east." He lowered his eyes. "I asked once and was assured that these were nothing but rumors. But now, down here I have thought about it again." He looked up. "I fear that they are true." He swallowed hard and looked away. "May God have mercy on us." Without giving Hogan the chance to answer he climbed up the ladder.

Hogan glanced to Olsen, who had been the last guard down in the tunnel. He just shrugged. "I have no idea what he is talking about." Nodding, Hogan focused on the important things. As he left the barracks, Kinch and Carter had already cleared their improved runway between the barracks.

LeBeau was keeping Schultz busy who was supposed to run the camp while Klink was in the city. Rosa Gold had offered to be the alibi for Klink and had called him away on his signal.

"Ready?"

Major von Hofer climbed into the glider where Kurt Gold was already seating. There was so much more he could discuss, so much more needed to be said, but all of it had to be postponed for after the war.

"We're ready." Von Hofer offered a salute and Hogan returned it.

"What-" Schultz rounded the corner. "Wait!"

But Newkirk and his crew had already stretched the bungee. Without waiting for another order, Kinch released the tension and the sail-glider rose up in the sky.

"Bon voyage!"

They waved in joy while Hogan watched in awe how the plane gained effortlessly height.

"Colonel Hogan!" Schultz' face was red. "Colonel Hogan!"

"It's marvelous Schultz, isn't it? Flying away without an engine, just by wind." If he was ever grounded, he would take up piloting a sail-plane. He could understand the pilots who had designed and created these planes.

"Colonel Hogan," Schultz shouted. "You cannot escape, Colonel Klink is not present. And you cannot fly a plane to do so!"

Over his shoulder, he shot Schultz a smirk. "I won't tell him, if you don't tell him." The plane disappeared in the distance.

"An escape," Schultz moaned. "That's my transfer to the Russian Front."

"Schultzie, why the sad face?" Newkirk clapped him on the back. "We are all still here. You won't even have to count twice."

The German guard straightened. "But who did fly away then?"

"Schultz, nobody flew away because there wasn't any plane in the camp where you had guard duty, or could there have been one?"

Schultz thought it over. "No, there couldn't have been a plane." He glared at Hogan but trotted off without further questions.

Hogan looked to his crew. They wore all identical grins on their faces, and finally he allowed himself the same smile. They had pulled it off. They really had.

* * *

 _November 17, 1944_

Hogan knocked.

"Come in," Klink said and his voice was business as usual.

With a little too much momentum, Colonel Hogan opened the door and breezed in. "You sent for me." If he ever would get back to London he was going to be in a heap of trouble for failing to following military protocol. But Klink didn't seem to mind or maybe had simple given up trying to enforce manners.

"Colonel Hogan," Klink rose and sauntered around his desk. "Do you fancy a cigar?" He held out the open box.

With a raised eyebrow, Hogan mustered Klink before he accepted the offered cigar. "As a matter of fact, I do." He grabbed one while Klink pulled out his lighter and offered him a light in one smooth motion.

"Colonel Hogan, do you remember the young man who had been hidden in my bedroom?"

Hogan took a puff. "No, nobody was here."

Klink slipped next to him. "Hogan," he whispered and balled his fist.

"I'm just practicing for your trial," he answered. "Do you rather want a different statement?"

Paling, Klink shook his head. He walked around his desk and sat down. "Perhaps you have heard rumors about a young man?"

Hogan stared at his cigar. It was a good one. "Maybe."

"Did you also possible heard something about his welfare?" Klink had carefully rephrased his question.

"In London it's raining this time of the year." Hogan raised his eyes to meet Klink's questioning glare.

Klink opened his mouth. The questions and worry still etched on his features. Colonel Hogan rose and went to the door, the cigar in his hand. "Now is not the time to forget the greatest German virtue." He grabbed the doorknob.

"What virtue?" For a moment, his questions were replaced by confusion.

"Seeing nothing, hearing nothing, knowing nothing." He raised his hand to wave goodbye.

"Hogan?"

He paused and looked over his shoulder. "Herr Kommandant?"

"Thank you."

Hogan nodded and left the office without further words. He had never expected to hear those words spoken earnestly by Colonel Klink. There were a lot of things possible, good and bad, if somebody just started to see, hear and do them.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

 _November 18, 1944_

The weather had delayed the planned bombing of the underground facility where the young man, Kurt Gold, had been forced to work until last night the bombs had shock the ground and finally put a rest to the underground working. They all had hoped that none of the forced laborers were down there by night. The information provided by Kurt Gold had proved to be invaluable and London had even expressed gratitude.

"And they really didn't say anything about the major?" Carter repeated his question. "That's not nice. I wanted to know how he was doing."

"No," Kinch said and grabbed himself a cup of coffee. After he had stayed in the tunnel all night, he deserved the warm drink. "I guess they don't want anybody who's listening in to hear anything."

"But at least we know that they had reached the front line and crossed it."

"Good work," Hogan looked across the table where they were sitting, "really good work."

Suddenly the door was opened and Schultz rushed in, pushed by a strong gust of cold wind.

"Schultz! Take the cold back out," LeBeau admonished. "We have to save firewood."

Klink had steadfast refused to provide more wood. Without giving away that their last firewood had been used to fly to London, they had to deal with what they had.

"I am sorry, cockroach," Schultz seemed sincere enough.

"I haven't cooked yet," he shooed the German guard away from the stove. "There's nothing here."

"That is alright," Schultz stepped up to the table, "I need to talk to you Colonel Hogan. For a moment, please."

Since Armistice Day and how Schultz had acted that day, their easy relationship had suffered. But he still remembered Rosa Gold's words. Rising to his feet, Hogan faced the German sergeant. "What can I do for you, Schultz?"

"I," he hesitated, "I came to apologize because I have ruined your Remembrance Day."

Newkirk's sharp intake of breath was the loudest reaction but Hogan could feel the sudden tension in the whole room.

"And I know that you got your flowers back, but I am sorry for taking them in the first place. So I brought you new ones." Out of the pocket of his coat he got three real poppy flowers and held them out to Hogan.

The colonel blinked. The flowers were almost smashed, but he could still see how carefully they had been transported.

"Where did you get them from?" It should have been impossible to get real poppies in November.

"To quote you, Colonel Hogan, you do not want to know." A small smile appeared on his face while Carter drew nearer to accept the flowers.

"I know, Colonel Hogan, that I have ruined your day but maybe you want to share our day to remember?"

"I don't think that there's any place for us in your _Heldengedenktag."_

"That day is for the Nazis and their version of history. But we remember our fallen soldiers every year at the _Volkstrauertrag._ That's tomorrow. And -"

"Schultz," Hogan shook off his surprise. "We did celebrate Remembrance Day. Our way."

Schultz' face fell and he nodded. Looking like a drowned rat, he turned and went to the door with slumped shoulders.

Hogan glanced around his men, trying to gauge if he would get support or opposition from his next proposal. Newkirk and LeBeau both looked away. They seemed to think and not vibrating with anger.

"Schultz," he clapped him on his back, "there are some things we can't share with our enemy, with you - and Armistice Day is one of them."

Schultz nodded.

"But there is one thing that we can share, that we can share tomorrow - and that's two minutes of silence because silence respects the sacrifice while everybody can think about his own people."

Schultz heaved a relieved sigh, his eyes shimmering. "Thank you, Colonel Hogan. I promise you, next year I will take a furlough early enough to not ruin your Remembrance Day." Having said this, he hurried outside, letting a new wave of coldness creeping in.

"There won't be a next year," Hogan stated, but then he caught Kinch's glance and nodded. They really needed the memory and the pain if they wanted to have a brighter future.

* * *

 _November 19, 1944_

They had agreed to do a two-minutes silence at twelve o'clock. Schultz had ordered a special formation and everybody had come. Right on the minute Klink arrived and all sounds ceased.

Hogan had forgotten just how much sound people make even without speaking. The camp was silent, as silent as he had ever witnessed. Neither the prisoners nor the German moved. The cooks had stopped their preparations and the guards stood silently on their towers.

He looked to his left, watching Newkirk and LeBeau. He had tried to get an understanding how they would take a silence together with the Germans, but they had just shrugged and evaded his questions. Either they tolerated it because it meant better working conditions in the camp, or maybe they were willing to allow some empathy in their heart.

As he looked back, Hogan suddenly realized that the flag on top of Klink's office was flown at half-mast.

The longer the silence went on the more oppressing it became. Schultz made a sniffing sound while Klink looked up to the sky. Without thought Hogan followed his gaze and found himself looking up to the cloudy sky.

There was nothing.

In the distance a bird cried. Hogan held his gaze upwards, to the vast sky promising freedom.

And then the two minutes were gone. He looked down and blinked. Nobody had done anything but as he looked across the compound everything seemed different.

He returned Klink's sharp nod. Then they both went back inside.

* * *

 _December 16, 1944_

Kinch wrote down London's answers while Hogan leaned against a supporting beam. After a day of radio silence, Kinch had been finally able to make contact. By the way the German guards had been grinning, Hogan knew it hadn't been a good day for the Allies.

"They have found out what Major von Hofer had meant," Kinch said.

"And?" Hogan prompted.

"The Germans have started a massive offensive in the Adrennes. They breached our line near Bastogne."

Hogan balled his fists and kicked against the wall.

"He knew too little to be better use," Kinch continued. "Or maybe they didn't believe him. Either way, we aren't prepared."

Hogan had a pretty good idea about the area. The use of the present in Kinch's words worried him more than the very thought of a breach.

"What happened?" Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau drifted over. "Who died?"

As Hogan remained silent, Kinch answered for him. "The Germans have attacked our defense near Bastogne. They breached."

The shock was reflected on their face. "What?"

Hogan straightened. "We're still going to win but it's going to take a little longer now, and we will lose more good men. Maybe it won't be Christmas in Berlin, but our victory is coming."

"And then? Will this ever stop?" Newkirk threw up his hands. "Or am I going back to Britain to become like my father and watch my own son fighting to the next war?"

The colonel clenched his teeth. "We will win," he repeated.

"Newkirk is right," LeBeau agreed. "What then? When is my son going to fight off the Germans?"

Hogan shook his head. "I don't know what is going to happen, but we won't repeat the same mistakes that were done back then."

Carter hung back and glanced to the ceiling. "I wish I could remember."

"Remember what?" Kinch asked with more patience than any other men had to offer.

"Who had told me this story," Carter said and tilted his head in thoughts. "Maybe I have heard it in school."

"We are overrun in the western front and you think about stories?" Newkirk asked and took a threatening step towards Carter.

"Yes," Carter stood his ground, "because it is an important story." He paused. "Maybe it was my grandmother."

"What story, Carter?" Hogan asked before the situation could escalate.

"How to exterminate your enemy." Carter took a deep breath. "Once upon a time, a king ordered his general to exterminate all of his enemies. A year later, the king went out to check on his progress. As he neared the front line he found his general and his soldiers together with his enemy celebrating a big feast. Angrily, he demanded an explanation. But the general just shrugged and said 'I did what you ordered me to do - I exterminated your enemies by making them friends.'"

"Friends with the _boche?"_ LeBeau asked and the outrage distorted his features to an ugly mask. "Never!"

Newkirk snorted. "The German will still pay their debts in one-hundred years! They're won't be any friendship. They can be happy if they get a tractor for their harvest."

Carter put his hands into his pockets. "But then you will always have enemies."

"That's right, because they are our enemies!" Newkirk grabbed LeBeau. "Come on, mate, let's go. These Americans are all bonkers."

"I liked this story," Carter defended himself and looked up to Hogan.

"It's a good story," Hogan reassured him even if he agreed with Newkirk and LeBeau. As he remained silent, Carter trotted away to his lab. In the radio room, only Kinch and Hogan remained.

"It's not only a good story, but it's true," Kinch said. "That's the only way to exterminate your enemy if you don't want to kill all of them, and that wouldn't make us any better than the Nazis."

Hogan swallowed hard and nodded. "Hopefully one day, men not us, are capable of doing this - making friends out of enemies. Then, and only then we are going to have peace in Europe."

If this endeavor failed, the next war was just around the corner, too much blood this war had taken to result in anything else.

In the year 1918 they had signed an armistice to end a war. Twenty-one years later the next one had started. Hogan didn't know what would happen twenty years from now, but he hoped that by the time the armistice had been signed one-hundred years ago, it would be remembered in peace and finally having taking effect.

"Do you think it's possible? Making friends out of enemies? Having peace in Europe?" Kinch asked and glanced to the tunnel LeBeau and Newkirk had vanished.

"I don't know," Hogan answered, "but I hope so."

 **The END**

 _A/N: Thank you very much for reading! I hope the story did the 100th anniversary of Armistice Day justice. Thank you Abracadebra for the challenge! I would have never written a story like this without your prompt.  
_

 _A/N 2: The different German point of views were inspired by "Saul K. Padover, Experiment in Germany. The Story of an American Intelligence Officer, 1946" and the TV documentary based on it._


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